


All We Can Do is Keep Breathing

by realmsoffreedom



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Cancer, Drug Abuse, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 53,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5266145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realmsoffreedom/pseuds/realmsoffreedom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been three months since Zayn left the band, and things are finally starting to go back to normal. Touring is the best it has ever been, and Louis finally feels like his life is getting back on track.</p><p>Too bad a fuck up of cells is going to throw a wrench in their healing process. </p><p>NaNoWriMo 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I finally hit 50k today, and I'm almost done writing this story, so I thought this would be an ideal time to post it. I'm really proud of how it's turned out, and I really hope you guys will like it. It really isn't triggering until the middle/end, but if cancer and talk about it triggers you, this story may not be the best read. This chapter is kinda short compared to upcoming ones, but since I have most of the story done already, I'm going to post weekly, so expect new chapters every weekend. The second chapter might be earlier because I have Thanksgiving Break and enough time to edit it and get it up, we'll see. Anyway, enjoy, good times don't last for very long. ;)

Louis has it good. 

His life is really fucking amazing at the moment, there’s nothing he’d wish for more. Living a life he always wished for, the ability to give back to his family and every person that’d contributed to his success…that feeling is purely indescribable, like the taste of water or why he does what he does. If someone were to ask him why he wakes up every morning to sing in a boyband with three of his best friends, there really wouldn’t be a clear, concise answer. He just does it. It’s all he knows, and all he ever wants to know.

Being on stage every single night, electrifying lights and fireworks and screaming fans – that is his normalcy, something that has been permanently ingrained into his brain like the routines of brushing his teeth the moment he wakes up and grabbing a cuppa before speaking to anyone in the morning. Playing shows is something he can’t forget how to do. It’s natural, fluid, like the adrenaline is blood running through his veins. 

This life isn’t really something anyone envisions for themselves until it happens. You don’t imagine being part of the world’s most famous boyband in the world, playing at massive stadiums with sold out audiences, night after night. It’s a dream that is often never caught; a hope often crushed by the harshness of reality and the struggle that is the music industry. Being thrust into this life wasn’t exactly something he expected, not by any means, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. 

He’s wired by the first song, ready to give the girls in those crowds every single ounce of his body and soul, like they’ve done for his band. There are countless fans out there who dedicate their entire lives to One Direction, and while he doesn’t understand how there are so many people willing to do such a thing, he will not hesitate to give them every single thing they’ve ever dreamed of, and so much more. They deserve that, at least. For supporting something that’s taken them on such a wild ride over five years and still being the strongest fan army possible. He doesn’t know their capability but it never ceases to amaze him.

Fame is a gift, no matter how you use it. It could be all take and no give, probably the way the Kardashians see it, or it could be a mix of both, a nice blend like the perfect cup of coffee. He gives and he takes and in the end, everyone is happy, or so he hopes. He’s done his best to make it so, albeit slowly, but he’s done it in the end.

One thing’s for sure, this kind of life is something you can never take for granted. There’s no way to be certain that they’ll steady on the steady incline of popularity, and one wrong move could send it all crashing to the ground, leaving all four of them to stand amongst the ruins and wonder where the fuck it all went wrong, and more importantly, _why_. 

But sometimes, things happen, and a lot of the time, they’re things that are only up to fate, which fucking sucks to begin with. The concept is fickle, something that is uncontrollable and absolutely unexpected, like a random curveball in the middle of a baseball game to confuse the batter. Fate’s cruel hands don’t give a damn who they’re playing with or what the game is. They’re in the business to fuck shit up and ruin lives, bringing a storm of terror, misery, and hysteria. Like a tornado, they sweep everything in their path, leaving behind a mess of ruins that is absolutely impossible to glue back together.

… 

He didn’t think they’d be able to go on as a band after Zayn left, but honestly, they’ve done pretty well. The energy brought forth night after night has done wonders to make up for the lost presence of the fifth member. It’s almost like they don’t need Zayn anymore, and that sounds horrible – it is – but Zayn isn’t the same person he was three years ago. Granted, none of them mirror their 2012 selves, but Zayn’s development hasn’t been entirely positive.

Louis isn’t the type to suppress his feelings, especially when people attack the army that’s stood behind him for the past five years. Naughty Boy is an utter piece of shit and the betrayal Louis feels, seeing Zayn befriend someone who has mocked and teased their fans for so long, has made him start to resent the dark haired lad.

“If you just wanna sit here and think for the rest of the night, that’s fine, but we have a show to play and I don’t think the fans are gonna be happy seeing three faces instead of four. We already lost one!”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Don’t think m’capable of forgetting that. And we didn’t lose Zayn, he lost us. He lost one of the most rewarding things in his life.”

“It’s been three months, Lou.” Niall’s face softens like he sees a crack in Louis’ foundation. The boys all know he’s been the most affected by Zayn’s decision – it’s obvious by how they’ve taken to walking on eggshells around him when the topic is brought up. It’s infuriating. He really wishes they wouldn’t treat him like delicate glass. He’s not fragile. They should know that by now. He’s a lot of things, fragile is definitely not one of them.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still be pissed at him.” 

“Why are you harboring that anger, though? It’s over, you can’t change it. Let it fuckin’ go.”

“If you start singing Frozen, I’ll fuckin’ kick your ass.”

“It’s a good movie!”

“It’s overhyped and overplayed and goddamn stupid.” Louis has to laugh at Niall’s wounded expression. He can’t be the only one who despises that stupid movie, but Niall and Harry have seemed to love it, for reasons he just can’t figure out. There’s too much singing, in high-pitched voices that make his head spin and his ears hurt. “How does _anyone_ appreciate that shit?”

Niall presses a hand to his chest dramatically, about to respond with something equally scathing, but he is cut off when Louis starts coughing. They’re loud, dry coughs that rattle his chest and make his head whirl. It’s out of nowhere, like some dust has flown into his lungs and his system is stupidly attacking it. Makes no damn sense, really.

“Shit Lou, you’re not ill are you?” Niall’s facial expression immediately goes from defiant to concerned, and he’s right to be. They have a packed schedule, shows for the next three nights, traveling, and more shows. None of them can afford to get sick right now, especially not where they are in the tour. This tour has been a mess so far, what, with Zayn taking a break in the middle and then ending up leaving the band. The fans don’t need him getting sick and more shows canceled.

Louis grabs a water bottle off the table beside him, and sure, it’s not his and there could be someone else’s germs all over it, but he’s willing to take that risk. He takes a long sip, the water soothing his dry throat and bathing his vocal chords. He’s good. It was just a random piece of dust. 

“Fine, Niall,” Louis reassures, capping the water. “Just dust, probably. I feel fine.”

“You sure?”

“Definitely. Now, don’t we have a show to do?”

…

The show is absolutely what he needs.

Adrenaline flows through his veins in a rush, making him even giddier than normal. He throws water at Liam and the two keep up their charade of play fighting, spraying each other with silly string and dumping entire buckets of water over each other. It’s exactly what he needs to forget about this whole Zayn thing. Those two hours of bliss are just enough to rid his mind of his resentment toward Zayn and make him focus on the millions of fans who are crying and having panic attacks because he smiles at them and tells them he loves them. That’s the best part of his job – making the fans happy. 

“You were on fuckin’ fire tonight, Lou,” Liam praises, grabbing a towel to dry his hair off. He’s drenched in sweat all around, so the action doesn’t make much sense. He’s gone through three shirts tonight, dancing around and sweating through each one. Liam doesn’t hold back on stage, he gives performing his absolute all, and that’s what Louis loves about him. 

“Like when I dumped the water on you?” Louis shoots back, the memory playing over in his head and making him laugh. His relationship with Liam is one of his favorites, being able to throw things at each other and drench each other with water and hit Liam in the dick almost every night, with almost no backlash. It’s one of those times when he can finally be himself, around Liam, and Louis loves it.

“And then I got you back,” Liam replies, grinning. “How long do you think it’s gonna take you to get all that silly string outta your hair, mate?”

“Which is why I’m glad I got you right in the dick with that bucket.”

“You two are like animals on stage, damn.” Harry joins the conversation easily, pausing to take a long sip of water. 

“Says the one who dances around stage with rainbow flags and wears gold boots,” Niall interjects. “You’re no better, Haz.”

“Nothing about what we do is normal,” Liam replies. “Who else can say their job is to have a great time on stage every night, effortlessly making people happy?”

“Don’t get all sappy on us, Li. I’m too tired for that.”

“I need a shower,” Louis breathes. “I’m covered in this fuckin’ silly string.”

“You’re welcome, mate.”

Louis rolls his eyes and flips Liam off, grabbing a towel. 

Another harsh cough strikes him, stopping him in his tracks. He hunches over, hand on his chest, trying to breathe through it. There’s a hand rubbing his back throughout, and when he finally gets his breath back, he looks up into Harry’s worried eyes.

“You okay, Lou?”

All three of them are looking at him like he’s just been told he has some kind of terminal disease, which is silly, really. It’s just a cough. They’re bound to get little bouts of sickness while on tour, with all the shit they touch and all the germs clinging to everything. It’s inevitable. 

“M’fine,” Louis stresses. “It’s just a little cough. It’ll go away in a couple days. Besides, you saw me on stage tonight, I was _fine_. You guys worry too much.”

They do. Every time he so much as sniffles wrong, he’s got scrutinizing eyes on him, worrying that he’s going to fall to pieces, when he _isn’t_. He’s not that weak. People seem to think he’s a broken shell of a person, hallowed because of all the shit he’s had to get through, but that’s not the case. Everything he’s had to put up with has only made him stronger, and this is no different. It’s just a little cough, nothing to worry about. 

He’s fine. 

…

The decision to come out for drinks wasn’t his, but Louis isn’t complaining at all. 

The alcohol has made everything different, warm and fuzzy around the edges, like nothing can go wrong. He’s floating, finally free and uninhibited. This is perfect. He can barely remember what comes out of his mouth even the moment after he’s said it, but he doesn’t care. It obviously wasn’t that important anyway. 

All four of them are here, along with their band and a lot of their crew, drinking, laughing, reminiscing about the tour, and just having an all around good time. Louis couldn’t be happier.

He tips another shot back, setting the empty glass on the counter with a sudden spark of energy he didn’t even think he had in him. Alcohol does weird things to him – it makes him so fuzzy, makes him feel like nothing is real. It’s like he’s floating in this fantasy world, and he just loves the feeling.

He just loves getting drunk, period. It’s not something he does often, but it’s fun and it’s his time to relax and get away, in more uses of the word than one.

“Ey Tommo, you wanna come dance?”

Louis glances lazily at Niall. The Irish lad is able to hold his alcohol the best out of all of them. He’s absolutely energized and wired, ready to do more than just dance, and he’s probably had more drinks than Harry and Liam combined.

Either way, Louis shrugs and accepts, letting Niall lead him out onto the dance floor. He can’t dance – never could, the main reason he could never understand Big Time Rush or how they worked. The tour with those lads was a _long_ time ago, but Louis still remembers their matching outfits and rigorous choreographed dances. He doesn’t know _how_ those boys did it; he could never do that every night. 

Whether he can dance or not, dancing with Niall is a lot of jumping around, waving arms wildly, moving left and right to avoid drunken idiots carrying glasses of tequila. Niall’s a very touchy feely person, especially when he’s drunk, so when he almost starts grinding on Louis, the older lad isn’t surprised at all. That’s just what Niall does. He’s affectionate and loud and loving when he’s drunk, and it’s what Louis loves most about him. 

He grins, laughing as Niall tries to pull off some complicated dance move that lands him flat on his ass. “Good one, Nialler!”

Yeah, life’s pretty good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect chapters this early, usually. Since I'm officially on break, I was able to edit this. And, thank you for the feedback last chapter, I'm glad you guys are enjoying this. :)

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. 

Every thing you do has a consequence, like, for example, drinking yourself to oblivion the previous night, resulting in one _hell_ of a hangover the next morning. 

Louis is fucking miserable.

“How are you not dying?” 

“I’m Irish, we know how to hold our liquor.” Niall shoots him a smirk, and Louis groans, flopping back into his pillows and squeezing his eyes shut. He kinda really hates Niall when he’s like this. Niall’s blessed with minimal symptoms of a hangover, it seems like he’s calculated exactly how much he can drink before the hangover turns to something unbearable, and god, Louis is envious. 

“I want to die.” 

“Join the fuckin’ club.”

Louis lifts his head and glances at the door. “Pleasant, aren’t we?”

Liam glares at him. “I feel like my head is literally about to detach itself from my body and roll its way off a cliff.”

“Oh fuck, don’t put it like that. I’m too nauseous for this shit.”

“You boys just need to learn when enough’s enough.” Niall’s voice is almost high enough to be haughty, and goddamn, if Louis wasn’t in so much pain, he’d definitely throw a pillow at him. Fuck Niall and his incessant ability not to get bad hangovers. This fucking sucks. “I’ll make some coffee. You guys better hope your hangovers are gone by tonight. The bright lights of the stadium won’t make them any better.”

This time, Louis reaches underneath himself and grabs a pillow, hurling it immediately at the Irish lad. 

…

The vomiting is almost immediate.

He’s too dizzy to even walk straight, and it doesn’t help that he’s getting sick every two minutes. He’s spent the afternoon with his head in a bucket or hovering above the toilet, trying to calm his rolling stomach. He’s never had a hangover this bad – this is something straight from hell, or Satan himself, for that matter. Louis doesn’t know what he’s done wrong to deserve such a harsh punishment, but it fucking _sucks_.

“Fuck my entire existence.” He leans back onto his heels, allowing Liam to reach across his body and flush the toilet. Moments later, a large hand comes to rub his back, and he sighs, pliant and exhausted, into the touch.

“This is the fourth time you’ve been sick today, Lou,” Liam says worriedly, his voice sending daggers into Louis’ skull. Hangovers really fucking suck, this is absolutely excruciating. 

“I want to die.” Louis groans to himself and slumps back into Liam’s body, barely able to hold his exhausted body up. All the throwing up he’s been doing has weakened him considerably, leaving him in an absolute weak, vulnerable state. Louis hates all of it. So much for proving to the boys he doesn’t need to be worried about. 

“I’ve got some aspirin and water.” 

The voices blur as Louis’ mind starts drifting again, his focus lazy and his head foggy. Everything is so unclear right now, like he’s floating, but this is just the bad kind of floating. Drifting through everything while shit is hitting the fan around him and not having the energy to care or try to care…that’s not something good to do. Especially not when he has to be on stage in three hours, where he has to sing and jump around and try not to puke all over himself. 

Yeah, he’s fucked.

Someone coaxes him to open his mouth and he complies hazily, swallowing on instinct when the pills and water are poured in. It’s something he’s so used to; he doesn’t even have to think about. If thinking were involved, he’d completely shut down. He can barely differentiate reality from fantasy at this point, his mind is so cluttered and he feels so distant, so out of focus, so not there. It’s something foreign and it’s kind of scary and he really just wishes the feeling would go away. Why did the world choose today to land him with the mother of all hangovers? It’s really fucking unfair.

“Lou, hey, come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

Two pairs of arms work to lift him up, and he barely exerts any effort – not that he’s trying to be difficult, he just does not have the energy to do more than he’s already doing. He’s barely there, like, his presence is almost non-existent, and yet he’s still awake and aware. The feeling is so scary and he feels so detached and nothing feels right. He really isn’t sure what this is; hangovers aren’t supposed to be like this. 

“Just go to sleep, mate. We’ll wake you before the concert and see how you feel then.”

He faintly hears those words, but a large part of him has drifted off into a world unknown, a world that lacks dreams and imagination, a fiery darkness that envelops him like a blanket but does nothing to warm. He’s gone.

…

“Louis, please. Sit this one out. You’re dehydrated and you’ve been throwing up all afternoon, you don’t need to go out there and sweat for another two hours.”

“M’fuckin’ fine,” Louis protests, chugging some water. It drenches his parched throat and makes him feel considerably better, giving him back some of the previously lost energy, if even possible. That’s probably why everyone says it’s so good to drink water; it makes you feel good all around, like it’s the cure all for everything. 

“You’re really not, Lou.” Harry reaches out, like he’s about to feel his forehead, and Louis ducks back, shaking his head. He doesn’t need them babying him and acting like he’s some fragile little bird that’s going to fall down. Harry’s ran off stage to throw up and then still continued with the show before, and Niall and Liam have both played with broken bones. There’s no reason for him not to get out there if he’s just hungover.

“I’m _fine_.” He stresses the second word and shoots Harry a venom-filled glare, turning away and taking another drink of water. He’s going to get through this show. He’ll rest afterward, but the fans shouldn’t be denied seeing him because he drank too much last night. It’s not their fault he was a fucking idiot and decided to get utterly pissed.

“Leave him, if he says he’s fine, he’s fine.” Louis has never been more thankful to have Niall as a friend. He catches the blond’s eye and smiles gratefully at him, but Niall doesn’t return the sentiment, only shooting him a serious look, as if asking ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’. 

“I’m not going to let them down because of a fuckin’ hangover.” He knows he doesn’t have to defend himself but he does it anyway, not wanting to deal with them whining about how he’s a fucking idiot later on. “We’ve put the fans through enough these past few months, they deserve at least some sense of normalcy from us. And if I’ll be damned if I can’t even give them that.”

“You’re acting like you’re taking the blame for Zayn leaving,” Liam replies, raising an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t be. It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault or Harry’s fault or Niall’s fault. That was all on Zayn. He put the fans through that, not you or us. It was his decision, and although no one’s over it yet, we have to move past it. If you’re sick, you’re sick. Don’t overwork yourself to try and compensate for something you didn’t even do.”

“I’m fine, Liam.” Louis hears himself say the words, but he’s really not sure he believes them.

…

It’s easy for the fans to tell that he’s not up to his best, and Louis utterly hates it.

He hates how the fans keep asking if he’s okay, at least, the ones he can see and home somewhat of a conversation with when they’re sitting down to sing Don’t Forget Where You Belong or Little Things. A lot of them ask how he’s doing, why he looks pale, if he’s alright, and as much as he loves the concern, he hates being so transparent. He can be seen right through, even if he’s trying not to be, and it really bothers him because he wants to appear strong for the fans and he can’t. 

He really does feel sick, his stomach is whirling and his head is spinning and everything just doesn’t feel right at the moment. However, he has yet to forget a lyric or mess up in some way, and for that, he’s grateful. If anything, his mind is working with him, and that’s one part of his body that’s not trying to fight against him, thank god for that.

Usually, he and Liam would be the ones to occupy the crowd with silly antics and their usual phenomenon of dumping water on each other, but Louis really isn’t feeling it tonight. He’s not in the mood for any of it; he just wants to make it through this concert so he can get back to bed. Luckily, Liam’s seemed to notice and has been bantering with Niall all night. The Irish lad has a knack for crowd entertainment – anything he does is considered funny, and goddamn, Louis has never been more grateful. It takes the attention away from him, so not as many fans notice his pathetic appearance. 

It doesn’t take away from how happy he is to be onstage, however. Nothing will ever compare to the electrifying rush that being onstage, performing to thousands of fans that have dedicated their entire lives to him and his band, brings. Nothing will ever compare, and there is no reason for him not to love it. Zayn really wasn’t a fan, at least, that’s the impression Louis got, and it boggles his mind. 

Yeah, the fame can get exhausting at times, and there will always be times when he would rather not be in this band, when he would rather be a normal 23 year old with a normal job, but those feelings are always temporary. There is nothing he would choose to do over this, and that’s probably why he’s still struggling so hard with Zayn’s decision to leave. How could you want to leave something like this? Being a solo artist would probably fuckin’ _suck_ , considering everything is monotone and you make all the decisions and there’s never anyone to talk to. There’s no fun to be had. Louis would hate it.

He’s always been the type of person that needs a reason to go on, he needs a light to guide him on the right path. It’s like the fans that believe he’s their light; he guides them on the right path. He needs people with him; he can’t do it on his own. And he thought Zayn was the same way, co-dependent with no reason to break out and do it on your own, but he was wrong. 

It’s been three months since they all met Zayn in that conference room, where he told them the worst news of his life, and Louis isn’t nearly as over it as Harry, Liam, and Niall are. He’s both frustrated and happy about that. Frustrated, because the continuous dwelling on this subject is like a dark cloud hanging over him, but happy, because Zayn was so fucking important and he can’t be let go of and forgotten this easily. 

…

Louis slumps down onto the couch as soon as the show ends and they get offstage. He lets his eyes drift shut and his body relaxes, his heart still racing from adrenaline. Funny, there’s still adrenaline flowing through his veins even though he wasn’t nearly as active on stage as he usually is. 

“Hey, Lou, hey, you asleep?” Hands brush his hair out of his eyes and he blinks.

“Just restin’ my eyes,” he mumbles groggily. Liam sits down next to him and reaches out to feel his forehead, which Louis doesn’t resist this time.

“You’re warm.” Liam’s voice rises to a higher pitch, knowing this new piece of information. Fevers are never good. With their schedules, it’s hard to get fevers to go away without them spiking again, and dealing with them is just an all around nightmare. However, it does explain why Louis feels so groggy and unmotivated and exhausted. Fevers knock you done completely, like that Newton cradle shit, where the balls keep hitting each other. He feels like one of those balls that’s continually being hit right now, constantly being slammed with symptoms of sickness and reasons to want to jump off a cliff.

“We should take you to the doctor, Lou.” Liam looks him up and down, glancing at his sweaty clothes and then at his pale face with red, fever flushed cheeks. His entire appearance is pathetic at the moment, and he feels like utter horseshit, but the idea of a doctor is really fucking unappealing. 

He hates doctors. They’re no use and they take too much time and half the time their diagnoses aren’t correct. They’re just irritating and they make mountains out of molehills and goddamn, Louis really doesn’t want to go have someone tell him he needs to stop performing and rest, or something along those lines. No doctor has ever been happy about their rigorous schedule, and Louis hates it. Not everyone likes to have a lot of free time, and while it’s nice, making people happy and doing the things you love for a living is rewarding in itself. Any doctor who tells him to stop doing what he loves can suck it, because his life is _his_ , not any of their concern. Their job is to treat him, and half the time, they can’t even do that properly. 

Fuck that.

…

“Boys, Zayn’s on the other line. Do any of you wanna talk to him? He’s not busy at the moment.”

Louis looks at the phone Liam’s holding out, scowling. He has no intentions of talking to that asshole right now. Zayn doesn’t deserve the time of day, not now, not this soon. It’s bad enough that he decided to leave the band, the little Twitter fight they got into has only added fuel to the fire. Louis is flat-out pissed at him, and more than that, he’s hurt. 

The ‘remember when you had a life and stopped making bitchy comments about mine’ comment was rude and unnecessary and it really fucking hurt. Because Louis’ life used to include Zayn. Zayn used to be a vital part of Louis’ life, and that tweet is really lengthening the gap between him and the rest of the band, almost like he doesn’t want to be associated with them anymore, like they’re a disease. 

“I’ll talk to him!” Niall grabs Liam’s phone and holds it to his ear. “Hey Z! Yeah, we’re just relaxing a bit before the show tonight. Lou’s been a bit ill these past couple days, so we’re taking it easy. We miss you. A lot.” He pauses for a few moments while Zayn answers, and then glances at Louis. “He wants to talk to you.”

“No,” Louis growls. “Why did you even fucking mention me? I don’t want him to know about any part of my life anymore, he made it clear that he isn’t a part of my life, therefore he doesn’t deserve that privilege.”

“Shit, you heard all that? Yeah, he’s pretty upset. Yeah, I’ll tell him. Okay. Okay. Bye, love you mate.” Niall hangs up, silently handing the phone back to Liam, before gazing back at Louis.

“He’s sorry, you know. He’s a human being, he makes mistakes, he’s not perfect, no one is.”

“Something like that isn’t a mistake, Niall. It’s pent up anger. And I’m sick of being the brunt of his outbursts.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the ending in advance - I'll try to have the next chapter up sooner, to make up for it. Enjoy. :)

Being forced to the doctor is not on Louis’ to do list today, but it’s happening anyway. No amount of protest was able to sway management. They claim it’s for his health, so he doesn’t get sicker, but he knows that the only reason they’re making him go is so that he doesn’t get sick enough to miss shows and cost them profits. People get pissy when they don’t get what they’ve come for, and they’ve come to see all of One Direction, not just three-fourths. If Louis isn’t able to perform, management’s gonna get in a whole lot of shit they probably don’t want to deal with. 

“They’re just gonna say stomach virus and send me home,” he complains, letting his head hit the back of the seat and closing his eyes. 

“And you can tell that to management,” Paul replies. “But you need to go to get checked out by someone with an actual medical license, not given a diagnosis from one of your bandmates who’s probably going off WebMD.”

“I really fuckin’ hate you right now.” Louis rubs a hand over his eyes and groans. He really isn’t in the mood for this. All it’s doing is eating away at his resting time before the show tonight, making matters even worse. He needs time to sleep before the show if he wants to put on any kind of semi-decent performance tonight.

“It’s not your job to like me, but it is your job to listen to me.” Paul’s responses are immediate, matter-of-fact, like he’s not in the mood for nonsense. He’s not being rude, that tone is just one he needs to use to get any of them to listen to him. He has to mean business to get a response.

Paul pulls into the parking lot of the local family practice doctor, and instructs Louis to pull up his hood and try and look as least noticeable as possible. They need to keep this under wraps, and having fans see him going to a doctor’s office is only going to cause unnecessary worry and panic.

Louis loves the fans, he really does, but he wishes he could just placate them by telling them they don’t need to make such a big deal out of everything. Their dedication has gotten to the point where it’s dangerous, their attachment to them has gotten so tight it’s precarious. Every time any of them tweets that they don’t feel well, multiple trends of love surface and there’s fans who start feeling ill themselves, at the thought of their idols feeling anything less than stellar. The sentiment is absolutely wonderful, but the fans shouldn’t be compromising their own health as a sacrifice. It’s not worth it. 

They’re taken back as soon as they get into the office, ushered somewhere completely closed off and private. Being this successful has its perks. Throwing money at anyone can make them keep their traps shut. Louis knows management will sue the pants off anyone who leaks his medical information, he’s not worried.

“I’m just going to take your temp and blood pressure, and the doctor will come in and do the rest.” The nurse smiles kindly at him, trying to hide an inner fangirl. She’s not doing a very good job; Louis can see the inner need to panic written across her face.

“You a fan?” He clears his throat, grunting at how shitty his voice sounds. Fuck. 

She shakes her head. “My daughter. Her entire life revolves around you boys, you are her world.” Her voice catches in her throat, and she swallows back a dry sob. “She has cancer, lymphoma. It’s extremely curable, and her doctors are working very hard to get rid of it, but she’s been really sick from the chemo recently. You, particularly, are her source of motivation. Her room is covered in posters, she loves you so much. You’re her world, Louis. We’re coming to the show tonight, and it’s the only thing that’s kept her strong throughout all of this. Knowing she’s going to see you tonight has made her happier than I can ever tell you.”

Louis swallows hard, emotion choking him up and overwhelming his system, bringing tears to his eyes. This is the reason he does what he does. To make the fans happy, to make girls like this the happiest they’ve ever been. This is the reason what he does will never get old, or boring, or become something he won’t want to do anymore. 

“Tell her that I love her very much, and to never stop fighting.” The sore throat combined with how emotional this is making him sound like he’s crying, and it’s frustrating. “Tell her that she is worth so much, and I believe in her. Tell her that she is beautiful, and that every day she’s on Earth is a gift. And tell her that I’m looking forward to the day when I get to hug her tightly and repeat all of this myself.”

The nurse has a few tears rolling down her cheeks, but her eyes are shining brilliantly. It warms his heart. “Thank you, thank you so much, Louis. You have no idea how happy this will make her. That means…I need to tell her I saw you today…”

“You can, you won’t get fired or in any trouble,” Louis replies gently. “I’ll make sure of it. Just don’t let her tell anyone else, we don’t want word getting out that I’m ill.”

She nods, thanking him again, before getting to work taking his blood pressure and temperature. “You’ve got a pretty high fever…101.2. Your blood pressure’s normal, though. I’m not sure what this is, but the doctor will be able to tell us.”

“Thank you.” Louis smiles at her. “And tell your daughter I’m very excited to see her at the show tonight.”

…

The fucking stomach flu.

That’s all it is. And he doesn’t even have strep, it’s just a minor sore throat that’ll eventually clear up on its own. Congestion and the stomach flu.

He’s fucking pissed. 

All that waiting and all that time and all that worrying over what he could potentially have, and it’s the fucking stomach flu. That was entirely useless. The only good that came out of it was the conversation with the nurse and being able to make one girl so fucking happy by just wishing her well and telling her he loves her. All he has is the fucking stomach flu, and he’s really pissed about it. He has less time to rest up for the concert, all thanks to this fucking useless doctor’s visit. 

The concert is in thirty minutes, and he has twenty to lie down and close his eyes for a bit until he’s met with screaming from himself and screaming from an audience, killing his eardrums and making his head spin. Fun.

The twenty minutes seem like a long time, but they end up passing quicker than he thinks, and soon enough, a hand is shaking him on the sofa he’s resting on, startling him out of sleep. Fucking hell.

“Lou, we’ve gotta get ready now.”

Harry looks at him apologetically, reaching up to feel his forehead. “Still warm. Dammit. Do you think you’ll be alright tonight?”

“Kinda havta be.” Louis blinks sleepily and swings his legs off the couch, letting Harry pull him to his feet and lead him back to get ready. 

He changes quickly and washes his face, trying not to make himself look as tired and sick as he actually feels. Washing your face can do wonders, and concealer under his eyes hides the bags he’s been blessed with from the shitty sleep he’s been getting. Tour life is the greatest.

He rushes behind Liam and follows him to where they meet up just before going on stage, to give each other a group hug and wish each other a great show. It’s silly, but a tradition they’ve continued even when their five member circle reduced to four. It’s almost like their show won’t go as well if they don’t do it. Kinda like a good luck charm.

The next moments happen so fast, a rush of events, flying through Louis’ mind with no trace of their existence. Before he knows it, he’s running out onstage, bursting into Clouds with the hope that everything will go well. 

…

It doesn’t.

He’s already run off stage to vomit once, and the nauseous feeling only keeps growing. At least last night he was able to act like nothing was wrong, he did his best to act like his normal self and try to joke around with Liam, but that’s all history now. 

He’s so nauseous that if he gets up, he knows he’ll puke everywhere, so he’s taken to sitting down for every song, not bothering to walk around and interact with fans. It’s not that he doesn’t care, he just physically can’t do it at this point. It’s too much, he’s so sick, and this really fucking sucks. Fuck this stomach flu, it’s knocked him straight on his ass and he doesn’t have the energy to get back up. 

Even when the nauseous fades, dizziness replaces it, sickeningly. He feels like standing up will leave him either fainting or falling right back down on his ass, and he doesn’t want to risk either. All he has to do is get through the rest of the set, but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to even do that. 

The fans are definitely worried. They keep screaming his name, some of them are crying…it’s just a mess. They’re so worried about him and he hates that he’s causing them pain with this. It’s not fair to them. They shouldn’t have to hurt over him, he isn’t worth that much.

“Is Louis okay?” Liam reads a sign, a makeshift sign, rather. It looks like the sign has been turned around and the message has been written on the back, after some fans noticed how ill he is.

“M’good, don’t worry,” Louis says shakily, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I’ve just been feeling a bit ill, but it’s nothing huge and nothing to worry about. I’ll be alright and seeing all your beautiful faces is making my night so much better!”

The fans cheer loudly at that, and he forces a smile, waving to them and trying not to slump down even further. He can’t make it look like he’s as sick as he is. 

“You okay?”

Niall leans down to whisper in his ear, and Louis nods, sighing. “Good, just feel ill.”

“You can run off and stay backstage, y’know,” Niall advises gently. “You look like hell, mate. You don’t have to finish if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“I’m fine.” If he had a dollar for every time he said he was fine in the past few days, he’d have enough to buy a million dollar mansion. He doesn’t know whether it’s more to reassure the boys or himself. The reiteration of the phrase is almost like him convincing himself that he’s fine and he’ll be able to make it through the show. He has to be.

The next song starts, Night Changes. This is one he could go up to the mike stand for, but standing up just isn’t in the cards for him at the moment. He’s so fucking nauseous and dizzy that the only thing keeping him from throwing up is the position he’s seated in. Management is probably going to be pissed at him for it, but he doesn’t have the energy to care.

His voice sounds like shit when he sings, but the fans still scream, considerably louder than they screamed for Niall, Liam, or Harry. They’re trying to motivate and support him, and it warms his heart. Their love for this band is so overwhelming sometimes, but other times, times like this, are when Louis absolutely loves it. He needs it. It fuels him, gives him the energy to keep going, to keep fighting and never give up. 

His stomach rolls, and he tenses, waiting for it to settle down like it has been doing. This time, however, that doesn’t happen. Churning and flipping, his stomach doesn’t seem like it’s going to calm down anytime soon, which can only mean one thing.

He’s about to throw up everywhere. 

It takes all his effort to shoot to his feet and sprint backstage, immediately getting sick in a trash can. His body trembles with the force of vomit shooting up his throat, and his head throbs. Everything hurts, he can barely breathe with the force of his regurgitation. He can faintly hear the boys trying to explain to the fans what’s going on, but obviously, they’re not stupid and can tell he’s run off to vomit. 

They’re crying and they’re worried and Louis just wishes he could wave a magic wand over himself and make himself healthy, not for his sake, but for theirs, so they don’t have to worry and stress and agonize over his health anymore. It’s not healthy for them to do. 

“Oh, Louis…”

A large hand rubs his back, far larger than any of the boys’ hands. He finally gets a break from the constant stream of vomit, and lifts his head slightly, panting. Someone hands him a cloth to wipe his mouth and he does so, groaning and shaking his head.

“Do you think you can get back out there, Lou?”

“I don’t have a choice.” His voice is raspy and hoarse and absolutely wrecked from the vomiting, but he doesn’t care. He has to go back out there. He has to try and make it through the rest of the show. If he can’t, fine, but he has to _try_. 

“You can sit this one out, Louis. You don’t have to go back out there when you feel this sick…”

“I’m okay, Paul.”

He shrugs off the older man’s hand and hurries back onstage, spouting apologies and praying that this show is over soon. 

…

Dizziness hits full swing a few songs later.

Like, full on dizziness, dizziness that has him leaning on Liam while they’re singing, barely able to hold his own body up. Liam looks at him worriedly, and Louis just shoots back a pleading glance, begging the other lad not to ask questions and just to be his crutch temporarily. Liam seems to get the message, because he switches his microphone to the other hand and brings his free one around to squeeze Louis’ shoulders, holding him up. 

He’s so fucking dizzy that it’s hard to see. His vision keeps blurring and he can barely see out of his half-closed, hazy eyes. Everything is so fucked up and everything aches and he just wants to curl up in a ball and cry. This concert has been utterly miserable and he doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to last. 

He doesn’t even know what happens in the next few moments. They’re random, unable to be processed. He can barely tell if anyone’s singing anymore. He’s just so exhausted and he’s run out of energy and everything is about to fall apart. It’s like a wind up toy that has to be wound up again, so it just stops. Everything is just coming to a screeching halt. His life is flashing before his eyes oddly, his vision blurring multiple colors.

When the darkness fully hits and he falls against Liam, he is totally unaware.

…

When Louis collapses, Liam knows it’s about to happen. The added weight of the older lad for the past couple songs has been more than average. This isn’t just some tiredness. Louis’ body is utterly and completely exhausted, he has absolutely no energy left. His skin is burning hot against Liam, frighteningly so. It’s not some low grade fever anymore. His fever is at least 102 degrees, it’s high. He should not be on stage right now. 

Louis hits hard, his entire deadweight falling on Liam. He drops his microphone around the same time Louis’ own falls out of his hand, creating a screeching noise that is absolutely deafening, but that is the least of Liam’s worries right now. He hauls the smaller lad up, supporting Louis as best he can. Louis’ head still lolls around, Liam can’t reach back to hold it up without dropping him. He shoots a grateful smile at Niall when the Irish lad comes up and holds Louis’ head steady, supporting it.

The fans are screaming. There’s some crying, some having panic attacks, everything is in absolute chaos and pandemonium right now. Harry is trying to calm them down, but his efforts are futile. Everyone is focused on one single thing – the limp boy in Liam’s arms. 

Liam hauls Louis up into his arms, carrying him bridal style off the stage and dropping him onto a couch, where multiple people immediately swarm him.

Ignoring his own fear and worry, Liam drops to his knees beside Louis and strokes his hot cheek gently, sighing. “Oh god, Lou. What the hell have you done to yourself?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start reading, let me preface this chapter by saying that I in no way know how cancer/anything medical works. I'm still in high school, I don't know anything about this stuff, so I did some research, but WedMD can only tell you so much. I exaggerated certain things for the sake of the story, so anything medical in here may not be factual, be warned. Anyway, thank you guys so much for the feedback, I'm really glad you're enjoying this.

“You boys need to go out there and finish the show. You have a couple songs and then an encore to do.”

“To hell with that,” Liam growls. “Louis was just taken away in an _ambulance_. I doubt any of those fans are going to be focused on the rest of our set right now. Everyone’s worried about Louis, everyone needs to know if he’s okay.”

“We’re not getting on that damn stage.” It’s kind of a big deal when Harry curses. He doesn’t do it very often, and when he does, he’s extremely serious about something. Of course, who wouldn’t be, in this situation? Louis is sick and management wants them onstage…fuck that. Fuck it and any chances of it happening, because it won’t.

Niall voices his own support and stands with Harry and Liam, the now trio forming a united front against their management team. It’s not fair for them to be bossed around, and they won’t be dropped from the label because they are the money makers for it. So basically, they have complete control, and goddamn, it’s amazing. Especially in times like this.

Management relents, finally, promising to get them a car to go to the hospital. They send a rep onstage to inform the fans that the show is being cut short and apologize for the inconvenience, although, Liam’s not sure why any fan would be upset, considering Louis just fucking _collapsed_ onstage. Everyone just wants to know he’s okay. The show doesn’t matter, not anymore. There’ll be others. 

“Boys, the car is waiting, and Paul is going to come with you. We’ll have some reps from our team down to get statements from the doctors on his official condition, and whether we’ll need to reschedule tomorrow night’s show, but for now, you’re free to go.”

Thank god for that. Their rush to get into the car and leave is not subdued. It seems like everyone has the same idea, because the traffic jam is utterly horrendous. Liam can see girls in cars crying, makeup smeared all over their faces. Twitter is probably blowing up right now, everyone’s panicking, and nothing feels okay.

“How’d he feel when you caught him, Li?” Niall’s voice is so soft and sounds so scared, like he’s a child whose father was just injured terribly. He sounds a lot younger than 21. 

“He was burning up. And I think it’s also exhaustion and dehydration. He’s been sick for a while, and his refusal to acknowledge it means he’s also refused to take care of it. The symptoms were bound to get worse.”

“He’ll be fine,” Harry says, lowly and optimistically. “Don’t assume the worst; he’s strong, and he will make it through this.”

“It’s probably just a bad virus, coupled with exhaustion and dehydration. IV fluids and rest will have him back on his feet in no time.”

“I really fuckin’ hope so.” Niall’s accent gets thicker when he’s worried or scared or panicking, something Liam’s picked up on over the years. He’s thinking too fast and talking even faster, and his accent gets so thick he’s hard to understand. Niall is a leech – he feeds off of others’ emotions. He can sense the atmosphere in a room just by looking around. If people are sad, he withdraws into himself, and if people are happy, he thrives and has a good time. Niall’s always been like that, always based his emotions on the people around him. It’s one of the things Liam loves about him.

He pulls Niall in for a side hug, squeezing the smaller lad against him. “He’s gonna be okay, Nialler. I promise.”

…

“What the _hell_ happened?!”

Liam sighs into the phone, hearing Zayn’s panic as soon as he answers it. Zayn must’ve seen the headlines by now – ‘One Direction’s Louis Tomlinson collapses on stage!’. The media is playing with it like it was some kind of publicity stunt. They have no damn respect for Louis and what he’s going through, all they want is to hyperbolize the entire thing to have the fans more worried than they should be. It’s working.

“He fainted, Z. He’s been ill, and he spiked a fever. He ran off twice to throw up during the show, and I guess exhaustion and dehydration caught up to him. We don’t know what’s wrong yet, we’re still sitting in the waiting room.”

“Do I need to come down there? I’ll book a flight if I need to.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Zayn. He’s still really pissed about your Twitter fight, and you leaving, for that matter. More than pissed, he’s hurt. He’s really hurt and he didn’t want to talk to you earlier…I’m not sure what he’ll think when you randomly book a flight and show up here.”

“I want to be there, Liam. I _need_ to be there. We had our differences, sure, but he’s one of my best friends. One of my brothers. I can’t just sit back and do nothing while he’s in the fuckin’ hospital.”

“You can come down, if you want,” Liam replies softly. “I’m not saying not to come. I’m just saying that he might not want to see you, and you’ll probably be pulled into an argument with him. You both have short tempers when you get angry, either of you might say something you don’t mean…he doesn’t need the added stress right now.”

“He can say whatever the hell he wants to me, I’m not going to fight back. I don’t have anything to defend myself with, Liam. He’s right. He’s the winner in this argument. I’ll take whatever shit he throws at me; I deserve it. But I really do want to be there for him. If something is wrong, he’ll need everyone he can get right now.”

“Alright, fine. He’s been back there for a long time now, and we still haven’t gotten word, so you have time to come down. Just make sure you don’t draw attention to yourself. If people realize you’re coming down here, they’ll put two and two together and realize that what’s going on with Louis is much more serious than they thought. Management doesn’t want any unnecessary panic caused. Be discreet.”

Zayn doesn’t answer for a few minutes. Liam can hear keys clicking, and he’s assuming the older lad is booking his flight. He has the money to get any flight he wants. There’s no reason he won’t be out here with them soon enough.

“I can’t get a flight until tomorrow, fuck…” 

“That’s good. It’ll give us time to tell Lou you’re coming and get him used to the idea. He won’t be happy if you just randomly show up and ask to talk. Book for tomorrow, pack today, and just relax. He’s fine. He’s going to be perfectly _fine._ ”

“I really fuckin’ hope you’re right about that, Liam.”

…

Louis wakes up completely disoriented. 

Everything is fuzzy, but he doesn’t feel nearly as crappy as he felt during the show. He knows he’s in some kind of hospital without even opening his eyes. The bed he’s resting on has those cheap, crinkly sheets and he can hear the beeping of a heart monitor. 

He blinks, feeling someone’s hand in his. The instinct is to squeeze their hand, and he does just that.

“Boys, he squeezed my hand!”

Niall. 

A faint smile makes its way onto his face, and Louis opens his eyes, locking gazes with Niall. “That was a long sleep, eh?”

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, Lou!” Niall hurls himself forward, and it takes all Louis’ strength to catch him in a hug, inhaling deeply and letting his eyes drift shut. “You scared the shit out of us.”

“Wasn’t really planning on it.” Niall pulls away and sits on the tiny space of bed Louis’ body isn’t taking up, gazing at him. 

“Why didn’t you tell us how bad you were really feeling?”

“I thought I could handle it,” Louis sighs, shaking his head. “I guess not. I didn’t think it was this bad, lads. Honestly. I wanted to push through for the fans, I wanted to make them feel special and happy for one night. I didn’t want to ruin their night by staying backstage after puking. They came to see all four of us, and I didn’t want to disappoint them.”

“Yeah, you totally didn’t ruin their night when you _fainted_ onstage,” Liam replies dryly. “You caused fuckin’ mass hysteria or some shit. Twitter’s absolutely _exploding_.”

“Liam and I are trying to reassure the fans you’re fine, but they’re not going to calm down until they get something concrete from you.” Harry locks eyes with him, the younger’s green gaze serious and laced with worry. 

Louis glances at his lap, downcast. He put everyone through a lot of shit and scared them all shitless, just because he was trying so hard _not_ to put people through shit by taking rest and sitting out the concert. Ironic, really. 

“You really gave everyone a scare, Lou,” Harry continues. “But we’re so glad you’re okay.” He stands and reaches in to hug Louis. Louis goes, pliant and vulnerable, straight into Harry’s arms and buries his face in Harry’s chest. There’s always been something special with the curly-haired lad. Something about Harry is very different to Liam and Niall, and even when they were friends, Zayn. Harry makes him feel like no one else ever has.

Hugging Harry makes him feel extraordinarily safe; he never wants to let go. He never wants to give up the one person who makes him feel utterly loved and worth it, even in times when he wants to not exist and thinks everyone would be better off if he didn’t.

“Love you.” His voice is muffled against Harry’s shirt, but still audible from the way Harry squeezes him tighter when he hears it. 

“Ah, Mr. Tomlinson, you’re finally awake.” Louis lifts his head up to glance at the doctor that’s entering the room. His face is kind, with serious undertones, like the news he’s about to give isn’t very good. It spurs a ball of anxiety in his chest, the nerves starting to build up like the tension when you stretch a rubber band too far. He’s gotten to the point of snapping much too many times recently. 

Louis stays silent, feeling Harry slip a hand into one of his. He grabs Harry’s hand and squeezes tightly. He can feel himself shaking violently, even though all the doctor is going to say is that he’s exhausted and dehydrated and needs more rest. Why is he so anxious? It doesn’t make sense.

“Calm down, breathe, Lou.” Harry’s rubbing his arm, trying to soothe him. He doesn’t know why he’s panicking so much; he’s never bee like this. It just needs to stop. Long enough for the doctor to break the news, at the very least. “You’re okay, you’re fine.”

“Mr. Tomlinson, you had spiked quite a high fever when you arrived, the highest it got was around 104.3. Normal viruses and flus usually don’t cause fevers that high – so we did some more tests, checked you out entirely. We ran all the labs, and the results…I’m afraid they are not what we expected.”

“Just come right out and say it,” Louis hears himself say, not wanting to hear anymore sugarcoated bullshit. If the doctor has something to say, he better say it straight, not try and fluff it up with reassurances. That will never be able to take away from the pain his words will bring. 

“You have acute lymphocytic leukemia, a cancer of the blood and bone marrow.”

Louis is absolutely frozen. He can’t think, can’t talk, can’t even process this. It’s like the real Louis has vanished and a dummy has been left in its place, because he can’t do anything other than sit them limply, not reacting in any way.

Liam finds his voice first. “What…um, what does that mean…? I don’t…I don’t understand…”

“Basically, it means that your body is supposed to produce red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets, but Louis’ body instead is producing white blood cells that are abnormal, and therefore, cancerous. They’re accumulating in his bone marrow, and not enough healthy cells are being produced.” He sighs and looks down at the chart in his hands. “This type of cancer compromises the immune system, that’s why the sickness he got turned much more severe than normal flus go. Because of that, this cancer can be fatal. However, we’ve caught it, and we are able to treat it.”

“But…how come no one said anything when we took him to the doctor…?”

“It’s hard to spot. It’s a cancer in the blood and bone marrow, so it’s much less visible than say, a tumor of any sort. When we noticed abnormal numbers in his blood work, we took a bone marrow sample, and that’s what confirmed this for us.” The doctor closes the chart and smiles at them. “I’m throwing a lot of medical terms and a lot of scary words out there, but really, this is not something that will kill him. The treatments we can do will work – they work for almost 90% of all patients diagnosed with ALL.”

“What kind of treatments?”

“Chemo, radiation, immunotherapy, and a few others.” He looks up at them, the kindness in his eyes seeming to match the next words he says. “Boys, while this is a fatal cancer, we’ve caught it, and we can do a lot of things to keep it from progressing. This type of cancer is one of the most curable, and therefore, Louis, death is not even near our conversation, at this point. There are multiple treatments that we can do to get you through this, we will do whatever we have to.”

“What’s my survival rate?” Louis speaks for the first time in ten minutes, but there’s something very different about his voice. It’s hollow, monotone, lacking all kind of emotion. 

“Louis, you don’t need to worry about that right now. It’s not vital information to your prognosis…”

“What is my fucking survival rate?” Louis’ voice rises slightly, traces of anger adding into it. He’s determined on finding out this one thing, this one thing that’ll probably break his heart.

The doctor sighs. “Right now, it’s 50 percent. However, the only reason it is 50 percent is because your immune system has been compromised, and almost deemed completely ineffective. The cancer cells have been building up for a long time, they’ve been in your body for a lot longer than just a few weeks. If you get sick, even a minor cold, it could kill you, because your immune system isn’t working to fight anything off. There’s not enough healthy cells being produced for it to do anything. We need to start treatment immediately, to build it back up, or this can be fatal.”

“Get out,” Louis says, cold and hauntingly. His eyes seem almost hollow, and he’s very pale, but the emotion in his voice is evident.

“Louis, there’s still some things-”

“Get the fuck _out_!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be pretty busy next week, so I decided to post this now. Thank you guys so much for all the feedback, it's amazing to know so many of you are loving this. Enjoy.

“Lou, babe…”

“Stop.” Louis can barely get that much out. His throat is closing, his eyes are watering – the signs of a full on panic attack are evident and relentless. 

“Lou, hey, calm down. You’re okay, everything’s okay…”

“How the _fuck_ is everything okay?!” His chest heaves, and there are tears pouring down his cheeks at a rapid rate he didn’t think was possible. “I have fucking _cancer_!” He spits out the words like venom, seeming to shrink away as soon as they’re out in the open, like they’ve stung. 

“And you’re going to get treatment for it, and you are going to be perfectly fine,” Liam says gently. His voice should calm Louis, but the ache in his chest and the panic in his stomach only work him up even more.

“You don’t fuckin’ know that! I could die! There is a 50 percent chance I could fuckin’ _die_!”

“Breathe, Louis.” Niall’s voice is uncharacteristically sharp, the sound almost foreign. He crawls onto the bed, into a position where he’s facing Louis, allowing him to place his hands on the other lad’s shoulders and look him straight in the eye. “You need to stop panicking. You’re scared, I know. We’re all fuckin’ terrified here, Lou. And I know what he said doesn’t sound good and things don’t look good, but you’re not doing this alone. You have us. And we’ll fight tooth and nail for you, down to our last dying breaths. So you don’t have to worry. You just need to focus on getting better, that’s all. Can you do that?”

Louis gazes back at Niall silently, tears making their way down his cheeks. He doesn’t answer, not for a very long time, and when he does, it’s shocking. Slowly, Louis begins to shake his head, the universal signal for ‘no’.

“No? What?”

“I don’t wanna fight this bullshit fucking war.” The exhaustion seems to have finally caught up with him, his multiple outbursts combined with flu symptoms weighing heavily on the poor lad. “I am so fucking sick of fighting for everything. I fight to keep myself from cracking under how shitty it is to be as popular as we are. I fight to keep myself from breaking under the pressure. I fight to make sure I can go on stage every night and put on a damn good show for the girls who deserve it more than anything, and believe me when I say that I am so _tired_ of fighting. If there’s a fifty percent chance that I’ll die, why not let it happen?”

“Louis…”

“No, seriously,” Louis continues. “It’s only a fifty fifty chance. I could die either way. And what if the chemo and radiation and all that other shit he wants to pump into me doesn’t work? I’m not fucking stupid; I know what chemo and radiation do to someone’s body. It’s painful and exhausting and I don’t want to put myself through that. If I’m going to die anyway, why not speed up the process?”

“Louis, you’re not listening,” Liam says, shaking his head. “You’re only hearing how there’s a fifty percent chance you’ll die. There is also a fifty percent chance you will _live_. If you have that big of a chance, why not take it? It’s the same chance you’ll die, what do you have to lose?”

“My will to live,” Louis shoots back. “My desire to be on this fucking planet anymore. My reason to wake up every morning. Everything about me that makes me, _me_. What is so wrong with just continuing on the way we are, and when I die, I die. That’s it.”

“That is _not_ it.” Harry’s voice is bordering dangerously on yelling when he speaks. It’s a foreign tone for him – Harry is the type of person who usually stays calm in high-pressure situations, when everyone else is freaking out. But not this time. “That is so far from _it_ , Louis. Cancer doesn’t kill quickly or without pain. You think that you’re avoiding pain by not getting treatment? You’re not. You’ll be in pain either way. Your immune system is fucking _shutting down_ , Louis. You can’t play shows, with or without the treatment. You could catch _anything_ from those fans, anything from anyone you come into contact with. You heard the doctor, even a small cold could kill you.”

“Your death won’t be a minor thing, either,” Niall mutters, glaring at him. Louis didn’t want to make anyone angry with all of this, but it looks like he’s managed to do it anyway. “You keep talking about all the girls that love you and dedicate their lives to you and want the best for you – what about them? How the fuck do you think they’re going to feel when they realize you’re dead? It’s not going to be good, Louis. Don’t think it won’t affect anyone, because it _will_.”

“I don’t want to put my body through chemo and shit. It doesn’t only kill off cancer cells, it kills healthy cells too! I’m not going to feel good, I’m not going to look good, I’m probably gonna lose all my hair and turn into this frail ass sickly person that I don’t want to fucking be!”

“And that’s enough of a reason not to fight?”

“For me, it is.”

“You’re not thinking straight, Lou,” Harry says gently. “You’ve just been told horrible news, your judgment is warped right now. You should try and get some sleep. You’ll think more rationally about this after a good rest.”

“I’m fuckin’ fine, Harry,” Louis spits. “Why are you people so damn insistent on telling me what I’m supposed to do with _my_ body? It’s _mine_ , not yours. You don’t get any type of say in what I do with it.”

“We’re just trying to help you understand why treatment should be in your mind as an option, Lou. It will help. Not all those horror stories you hear about cancer patients are true. Some of them, yeah, but not all. And it’s different for everyone.”

“And how do you know I won’t be like them? The cancer patients who get sickly and frail and can barely walk on their own? How do you know I won’t lose all my hair and become an empty fucking _shell_ of the person I am now? How do you fucking know?”

“I don’t know,” Liam replies. “I really don’t know what the chemo is going to do to you. But I do know that those kids who are empty shells of the people they used to be have much less hope and much less to look forward to, than you. You have so many opportunities here, Louis. Don’t waste them.”

“Oh, and now you’re gonna try and guilt trip me into doing something irreparable to my body? Great tactic.”

“Would you stop being so damn bitter for a second and fucking _listen_?!” 

All eyes turn to Harry, whose expression is a blur of emotion, anger, pain, terror, all mixed into something seemingly unreadable. They don’t know what to think. Harry doesn’t get angry, he doesn’t curse and scream at people, he doesn’t. This is so uncharacteristic. It must be something to do with the fucking way Louis is acting right now, like a proper ungrateful twat, or so Liam thinks. 

“You have cancer. And it’s aggressive and you will die if it’s left untreated, but you could also die even with treatment. Okay? That is what we know. Those are the facts. And along with that, you have the same chance of living through all of this as you have dying from it, so either way, your chances don’t outweigh each other. Living doesn’t outweigh dying, and dying doesn’t outweigh living. So what do you have to lose? Try the treatment. And before you talk about it not working – we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, it’s not something imperative to worry about right now. And yeah, the chemo is probably going to wreck your body and you’ll hate every minute of it, but it’s working to keep you alive. To allow you to be the hero for the girls who love you with every fiber of their being, to be the son your mum doesn’t get to outlive, to watch your baby brother and sister grow up, to allow them to know who Louis is, rather than just what they’ve heard in stories. This is a chance, Lou. It’s going to give you the world. And you have so much to fucking lose, if you don’t take it. So yes, it is your decision in the end. But you better make the right one, and think about what not getting treatment is going to cost you.”

…

Louis is released from the hospital the next day, told to sort out what he wants to do in terms of treatment, and then to call back if he does decide to go with chemo so they can schedule appointments. It’s all too much and he has two panic attacks in that span of time, making one thing clear in his mind.

Everything is an utter mess and he can’t function in this environment. He can’t breathe, he can’t function, and nothing is going right. He needs a breather – he needs an escape, before he completely falls to pieces. No one can be told they have cancer and magically be okay afterward, and Louis is no exception.

“Wait – Lou, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Doncaster,” Louis says roughly, shoving clothes into a suitcase. “I need to go home. Can’t be here. Can’t do this right now. It’s all too much.”

It makes sense. Louis needing to go home and talk to his mum and see his family for a couple days. Especially after the news he just got, Liam would be surprised if he didn’t want to go home for a bit. It’ll be good for him. Louis’ mum is one of the most important people in his life – she’s the person that can bring him back to Earth when he’s floating in space, unsure of anything. She’ll be able to convince him to fight.

At least, he hopes that’s the case. Being told her son has cancer and then being told he doesn’t want to try and fight the cancer may be too shocking, all at once. He just hopes it isn’t too much for her to think clearly and convince Louis to change his mind about fighting. He needs some sense knocked into him, and clearly, she’s the only one who can effectively manage it. 

Liam looks up at Louis and smiles reassuringly, trying to communicate his thoughts telepathically to the other lad. Maybe Louis will finally see that cancer isn’t a death sentence, that fighting is worth it, after this trip. At least, he hopes that’ll be the case. “Be careful, alright, Lou? We’ll handle everything with the tour and management and all. Just go see your mum and focus on feeling better. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Liam,” Louis confesses brokenly, swiping angrily at his cheeks. “I just want to go home, I want this to not be real.”

“But it is,” Liam says softly. “And it’s fucking terrible and if I could take it for you, I would, but you will get through this. Just go home, go to your mum, and you’ll know what to do. She’ll help you figure it out. Mums are always good for that.”

“What if no one has the answer?”

“Someone will.” Liam takes a few steps forward so he can look Louis in the eye, the seriousness and genuineness in his gaze unwavering. Liam’s presence is nothing but comforting. He exudes it, wherever he goes. It’s odd; Louis has always found it strange. Liam’s presence is strangely father-like, which is probably why he makes Louis feel so comfortable and safe while he’s in the room. It works wonders to calm him down, which is nice in times like this. “There will always be an answer. It just takes longer than you think to find it. And sometimes, that’s a good thing. When you’ve exhausted all the options, you finally figure out that the one you didn’t think was the answer actually is. And that’s okay. And you may think it’s not there. But it’s always there, just waiting, waiting for you to make the right choice.”

…

The plane ride allows Louis a lot of thinking time, which is both good and bad, in retrospect. He hasn’t really had the time to absorb everything, to soak it all in. The past couple days have been a rush and his mind has been so scrambled that he can barely even process the fact that he fucking has _cancer_. It’s such a foreign thought, it doesn’t even feel real. How is it supposed to feel when someone tells you that you have cancer? How are you supposed to process it? Louis doesn’t know, he doesn’t know anything, and that is killing him from the inside out. 

The absolute scariest part is how much charity work he’s done for kids who do have cancer. He’s seen how fragile and tiny they’ve looked, brittle boned and exhausted just by walking to the loo. It’s heartbreaking. He’s held them in his arms, held them close to his chest and felt their tears and raspy breaths against his body. He’s seen the horrors of what cancer can do to someone, how taxing and difficult a journey it is to remission, and he really doesn’t know if he’s cut out to travel the long, dark road toward remission.

He’s not an idiot – he knows exactly what Liam, Harry, and Niall are saying about fighting and how he needs to fight this. He knows what he’d lose if he chose not to. But he’s seen this disease up close and personal, he’s seen it do terrible things to children barely five years old. Thing is, they’re all in such good spirits. He’ll never forget how their little faces absolutely glowed when he walked into the room, how he got the chance to pick every one of them up and hold them close, just making them feel completely safe for just a few minutes. He never imagined he’d be on the other side one day.

Cancer is something always talked about, but no one ever expects it to happen to them. You always hear about it afflicting other people, but no one ever expects to get it themselves. The disease itself is horrifying and devastating and the death rate is way too goddamn high. Some cancers are worse than others, and despite his doctor telling him his cancer is one of the most curable ones, he’s been hanging onto the fact that he basically has no immune system now.

A simple cold could be the end for him. He doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life living in fear, rushed to the ER as soon as he so much as sniffles because he can’t fight off something small, let alone something like bronchitis or pneumonia. That’s no way to live. 

It seems like the universe is punishing him, like there’s no possible way to have everything be good all at once. That’s why Zayn left – things were going too well, and then the universe decides to screw with them and then their five piece becomes a four piece. And now, because they’ve come back stronger and everything is going fuckin’ great, the universe decides to give him cancer. 

Nothing can be good for too long, can it?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, gonna be pretty busy next week, so expect the next chapter next weekend. Enjoy.

Louis rings the doorbell of his own house, knowing he doesn’t have to, but wanting the visit to be a complete surprise for his sisters. Doris and Ernest will be too young to remember it, but Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy, and Phoebe will be extremely excited, this is one part of coming home that he loves. 

He hears thudding footsteps rushing to answer the door, and as soon as it’s pulled open, he’s attacked by a small body. He squeezes Daisy tightly, wrapping his arms around his baby sister and holding her close.

“Louis!” 

“Hi, love. Surprised to see me?”

“You didn’t tell us you were coming!”

“I didn’t know until yesterday night, love. It was a last minute decision.”

“Dais, who was at the- holy shit, Louis!” He grins and shifts Daisy onto his hip, using one arm to hold her, and opening the other for Fizzy. She’s there in seconds, pressing herself to his body and letting him wrap an around her. 

This is what makes things better – this – being shown the utmost love from his family when he comes home, even when the news he’s bringing with him this time is so far from good. He just wants to live in this moment; he never wants it to end. It’s perfect – being able to hug his family after being away for so long. He really misses them when he’s away, especially considering for how long he’s gone. 

He leans in and kisses Daisy’s cheek, before setting her down. “Where’s everyone else, babe?”

“Mum’s in the kitchen, Lottie’s out with her friends, and Phoebe’s somewhere around the house. And Dan took the babies out for a bit.”

Louis nods. He grabs Daisy’s hand, in his free one, and manages to shuffle both the girls to the kitchen, still allowing Fizzy to cling to his waist as tightly as she’s doing. He’s used to this, it’s not a foreign concept anymore. His sisters really miss him when he’s gone, so they cling when he’s home. It’s normal.

“Hi, mum.”

Jay glances up from the stove and her face breaks out into one of the widest smiles he’s ever seen. Moments later, his mum is hugging him as well. She kisses his cheek, squeezing him tightly.

“Oh, Louis…thank god, I was so worried. I saw all the headlines…you have no idea how worried I was, baby. But what are you doing here? You should be resting, love.”

“I kinda have something really important to talk to you about…”

Confusion makes itself present in her gaze – usually she would’ve known any important news through their management or social media. He doesn’t usually come home to tell her things in person, because he doesn’t have enough time for that. This must be something really important. 

…

“Alright, Lou, you’re starting to scare me now. What is so important it had to wait until all the kids went to bed?”

They’re sitting in the family room, cups of tea in their hands, and Louis had never realized how hard this would be. How the fuck is he supposed to tell his mum that her firstborn has cancer? There’s no guideline for doing something like this, no role model for him to go off of. He has to break his mum’s heart all on his own, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for something of that magnitude. It’s not fair. 

“I…” He hesitates, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. This is so hard for him. He can’t tell her something like this. It’s too hard. It makes the pain in his chest grow to an insurmountable high. This all just hurts way too much. He doesn’t want this to be real, not at all. Nothing feels real, he just feels like he’s floating, disoriented and discombobulated. Nothing is okay; he just wants to collapse in his mum’s arms and cry it all out, but he can’t. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Jay says gently. “Just spit it out, love. I’m sure you’ll feel much better once you tell me what it is you need me to know.”

“I have cancer, mum.”

The silence that drapes the room is tactile. Louis can see his mum’s face crumple, and this is exactly why he didn’t want to tell her. Her heart is shattering, he can tell, and there’s nothing he can do about it. There’s no easy way to say it. There’s no way to sugarcoat the reality of the situation, even though he wishes that he could’ve done _anything_ to keep her from knowing.

The worst part now – not even the fact that she was just told her first born has cancer, but he needs to talk to her about not wanting to fight and not wanting to even treat this. It’s too overwhelming – he should’ve considered all these facts before deciding to be fucking stupid and blurting it out.

“Louis, I, what?”

“Cancer, mum,” he repeats miserably, tears freely making their way down his face. “Acute lymphocytic leukemia. Means my body’s producing shitty white blood cells that are cancerous and it’s compromising my immune system or some bullshit like that. I don’t know. I was too busy panicking while the doctor was talking.”

“Okay, breathe.” Fuck, that only makes him cry harder. She was just told her firstborn has cancer, and she’s the one trying to calm _him_ down? Ironic and fucked up.

“Breathe, sweetheart, just calm down, okay?”

“I’m so sorry.” A choked up sob makes its way out of his mouth, leaving his throat raw and scratchy. “I didn’t…this is so fucked up, I mean, I just told you that I have _cancer_ , and _I’m_ the one crying.”

“Hush, baby.” She pulls him in for a hug, kissing his forehead. “It’s alright. This is very much of a shock, I’ll admit, but you didn’t come here just to tell me about this. There’s something else. What are you not telling me?”

“Mum…”

“Louis. Admittedly, you haven’t been home much in the past few years, but you are still my beautiful baby boy, and I know you better than you know yourself, at times. Now, are you going to tell me what you’re so insistent to keep bottled up?”

“I don’t want to fight it, mum,” Louis cries, his throat closing. He can’t handle this. He thought he could, but he just can’t. It’s all way too much. “I don’t…I have a 50 percent chance of survival. A minor cold could end it for me. My treatment options are chemo, radiation, or some kind of immunotherapy and I don’t want any of it.”

“Oh, Louis…”

She rubs his back gently, and he just tries to breathe. He can’t stop shaking, the tears are coming faster than ever intended – this is all so fucking overwhelming. 

“Stop, stop panicking. You need to breathe, sweetheart, or you’ll hyperventilate, and we can’t have that. Everything is okay, Louis, _breathe_.”

He buries his face in the crook of her neck and breathes in, inhaling the scent of his mum that never fails to bring him back to Earth. No matter how old or how successful he gets, his mum will always be his top source of comfort, his anchor, the place he goes when he doesn’t feel okay. He’ll never stop needing her, it just won’t happen.

“There you are, you’re okay.” 

He sniffles, closing his eyes and relaxing, sagging against her body. If only he could never let go of this one moment, if only. 

“Hey now, you need to start from the beginning.” Jay pushes him away gently, so she can look him straight in the eye. “Tell me the entire story, baby. Let’s figure this all out together.”

Louis sighs. “I was getting sick, like, a few days ago, and at first, I didn’t think anything of it. I went to the doctor and they told me it was just the stomach flu. The first signs of flu symptoms came out after the lads and I went out drinking, and the hangover the next morning…I don’t even think it was a hangover, at this point. It was so bad. But I kept getting sicker, and the show I passed out at, I ran off twice to puke and then I just…I couldn’t make it. I couldn’t. They took me to the hospital, and according to the boys, I was out for over two days, and when I woke up, they told me I had cancer.”

The look on her face is unreadable. “Did they tell you why you were having those flu symptoms? And why didn’t the first doctor you went to catch this?”

“The flu symptoms are symptoms of this type of cancer. And this kind is only diagnosed with blood tests and bone marrow samples, which they didn’t think to do because my symptoms presented as the flu. My fever was only 101, it spiked to almost 105 after I collapsed, so they knew something was seriously wrong, it wasn’t the flu.”

“Oh, my baby…” She pulls him in for another hug, holding him tightly. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you…you don’t deserve any of it. But you do deserve the chance to fight, sweetheart. And you have it. So what’s this about not wanting to take it?”

“I’ve seen what chemo and radiation do to kids, mum. I just…it’s so much pain and it’s torturous and exhausting and I’ll become a complete shell of who I am now…I just don’t want to go through all of that.”

“Sweetheart…I know it’ll be hard and it won’t be pain free, not by any means, but you have a shot here, you need to take it. Think about how many people will be impacted by this if you end up dying.”

“I shouldn’t make my decision based on what other people think…”

“No, you’re right, you shouldn’t. However, there are so many people that need you to stay alive, that need you to be the beacon of hope in their lives. Think about it. When you beat this thing, you’ll be such a role model to any child struggling with cancer. They’ll think ‘if Louis Tomlinson could beat it, so can I’. Don’t you want that?”

“If.”

“What?”

Louis shakes his head. “You said ‘when I beat this thing’. You meant ‘if I beat this thing’.”

“No, I didn’t. You are so much stronger than you think. You are stronger than these cancer cells and you can beat this. You just need to have some faith in yourself, baby. You’re more than capable of beating it. And you’re not alone. You have the boys, me, Dan, your sisters and brother, not to mention, all the millions of fans you guys have. You’ve got so many people in your court, sweetheart, so many people who believe you’ll get through this. The only person who doesn’t believe it is you.”

…

Zayn doesn’t know what to think.

It’s the common belief that he doesn’t care about One Direction anymore, ever since he decided to leave, but that is so far from the case. Those guys are his brothers, although not flesh and blood, they’re still people he’d take a bullet for without even thinking about it. They got him through some of the hardest times in his life, and he’ll never stop caring about them, contrary to popular belief.

The Twitter fight he had with Louis is still fresh in his mind, and honestly? He regrets every moment of it. He regrets even thinking he could hurt Louis in that way. Naughty Boy is an utter asshole – he found that out quickly, after everything. Louis was only trying to do the right thing and defend their fans – that’s the way he’s always been. Fiercely loyal, fiercely overprotective, willing to do absolutely anything, no matter the repercussions, to protect the people that he loves. It’s something Zayn loves about him.

He leans back in his seat and stares out the window. It doesn’t seem like they’re moving very fast, but the truth is that this plane is traveling far faster than any car could. It’s around an 11 hour flight, which means he has a lot of time to think. Thinking, or in this situation, overthinking, is a blessing but a curse. He doesn’t want to think of the very worst, like if Louis doesn’t forgive him or if something is seriously wrong with the older lad. He doesn’t want to imagine it – he doesn’t want it to be real. 

Things just need to go back to the way they were. When everything was simple, and life wasn’t this much of a burden. When they were the five best friends taking on the world, one city at a time, and having the time of their lives doing it. Those days are some he wouldn’t change for the world. He didn’t leave One Direction easily, it was a decision that took so much pain, so many sleepless nights, so many hours of contemplation. It was more trouble than anything, because he knew there’d be backlash, he knew people wouldn’t understand it. 

He was putting himself first, and although that’s a good thing, he really isn’t sure whether it was the right thing to do. Putting himself first has hurt so many people, he’s caused so many people pain, especially Louis. He knows how the older lad works – he knows that bitchy comments don’t look like they bother him, but inside, they chip away at him, drowning him in self-doubt and hatred. The thought that _he_ caused Louis to feel like that makes him sick. 

The plane is landing soon – in the midst of falling asleep, thinking about shit, and listening to music, he didn’t even realize that 11 hours had gone by. Flights like this are eye-opening and make him view the world entirely differently, now that he’s had time to think and realize what’s in front of him and what parts of his life he isn’t satisfied with. He can finally think of ways to fix them, ways to change what he doesn’t like. It’s enlightening.

…

He’s been directed to a small house in the middle of nowhere. 

There’s nothing around except farmland, no other houses, no stores, nothing. It’s completely secluded, and he knows exactly why the lads are hanging out here for a while. There’s no one to see them, no paparazzi to take pictures when they aren’t looking to become the next media headline, it’s perfect. 

He rings the doorbell, dragging his suitcase up to stand beside him. He pushes the handle down, just in time for the door to swing open.

Niall is standing in front of him, just staring, with red, puffy, bloodshot eyes. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in a long time, and his entire appearance screams it. Something about him makes him look so much older than Zayn last saw him. He looks like he’s aged a lifetime, worn by the stress of it. It’s scary. But a small smile crosses his face, and he reaches out to hug Zayn immediately.

Zayn hugs Niall close, enjoying the feeling. It’s been a long time since he hugged Niall, or any of his former bandmates, for that matter. He hasn’t seen them since he announced that he was leaving the band. Niall hasn’t changed that much – the only reason he looks older is because of the stress and pressure he’s under. Zayn can understand that. He still looks like the same Niall Zayn knows and loves. That’s comforting to know.

“We’ve really missed you, Z.” Niall pulls away and steps back, allowing Zayn to come inside the house. “It’s been a while, eh?”

“Yeah…” Zayn nods, glancing around. It’s not very big – just the right size for a few people staying temporarily. It’s small, quaint, somewhat homely, but it’s nothing compared to actually being home. He assumed they’d go home, not stay back in Sweden, so this is kinda strange. There has to be a serious reason for them to stay. “Why are you guys staying here?”

“We’re waiting for Lou to get back.”

“He’s not here?”

Niall raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “Didn’t they tell you? He went back to Doncaster; he went to see his mum for a few days. He’s coming back tomorrow. And then we’re gonna have a lot to talk about.”

“Where are Liam and Harry?”

“Harry went with Paul to get some groceries, and Liam’s with Sophia. They went for a walk, nowhere far. We’re kinda in hiding. Can’t go anywhere unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Damn, that sucks.”

“It’s not that bad, considering the news we’ve just heard.”

“What’s wrong with Louis?” The news must have something to do with that; there can’t be any other reason for them to be in hiding.

“Liam didn’t tell you? He has cancer, Zayn. Leukemia.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is up a little later, it's a bit longer to make up for it. Make sure to read the note at the end. Enjoy. :)

Cancer.

 _Leukemia_.

He knew it would be bad, but never _this_ bad. This is something unimaginable – like a bad taste in his mouth, venomous and absolutely unreal. There’s nothing he can say or do to illustrate his reaction that’ll do it justice. He’s seen cancer – it’s not a foreign thing. His grandfather is dead from the fucking horrid disease. He just never imagined it would happen to _Louis_ , one of the absolute most important people in his life. It just isn’t able to be comprehended in his mind.

“Whoa, Zayn, you look like you’re gonna pass out. Come sit down.”

Niall leads him over to the couch, and he goes blindly, he isn’t paying attention. His mind is racing littered with thoughts of _LouisLouisLouis_. Louis has cancer. Louis has a disease there is no cure for, a disease that could kill him. The thought makes him so sick – his stomach rolls at it. He can barely comprehend what’s he’s feeling right now, but knowing that one of the most important people to him is so sick…it makes his stomach turn and he feels faint. He doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right.

It’s almost like this is the universe’s way of saying that he’s a total and complete dick for what he said on Twitter. This is a sign. He was so fucking rude to Louis, someone who’s been there for him since day fucking one, and he picked Naughty Boy over him. Honestly, what kind of friend is he? What kind of _brother_ is he? 

He’s been so busy trying to forget his old life, trying to forget his roots and what’s made him into the person he is, that he hasn’t been bothered to be the bandmate, the friend, the brother that everyone needs. Looking after himself is great, but there’s a shitton of people who rely on him just as much right now, and Louis is, _was_ , one of them. And now he’s gone and royally fucked it up. He’s gotten so obsessed with himself and trying to better his life that he’s been neglecting the people in it, and goddamn, it’s so fucking hard to stomach.

The person he’s become lately is one they all said they’d never be. An asshole that only seems to care about himself. He cares so much about the fans, and hopefully, they know that, but he also cares about his fucking family. Not the flesh and blood one, but the family that have molded and shaped the tail-end of his teenage years to make him into who he is today. That family. They’re important.

And now one of them is hurting, and Zayn isn’t sure how he can fix it. It’s _cancer_ , not a illness like pneumonia or bronchitis. It can’t be cured with antibiotics or a better lifestyle. It’s something cruel, unyielding, something that grips lives and snatches them away, not giving a damn of who it hurts in the process. It’s selfish, that’s what it is. Cancer is so fucking selfish, and Zayn hates the fucking disease with every fiber of his being.

Louis doesn’t deserve this. No one deserves cancer, but Louis…Louis is everything. Louis is the fucking sun, so goddamn radiant and shining on everyone he possibly can. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s given so much to the world, and this is what he gets in return? Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. Louis deserves the absolute world and so much more, and he’s not getting any of it. That fucking sucks. To be honest, everything in his life kinda fucking sucks right now, and Louis is at the epicenter.

…

Louis arrives back to the house they’ve rented for the time being in Sweden in much higher spirits than when he left.

Although fighting the cancer isn’t the most appealing thing to do right now, his mum’s advice has kicked in. Being able to be there for his youngest brother and sister, moreso his brother. He finally has a brother to teach football, a person who will look up to him completely. And if anything, the thought of Ernest being stuck in a house full of six girls…well, Louis doesn’t want to put him through that.

He just doesn’t think that he’ll be the best person in the next few weeks – probably grumpy, irritable, an absolute asshole – not that he isn’t an asshole on a daily basis, but even more of one. He hates the person he’s going to become, the person he’s going to be to his family and his friends, but if they really want him to fight this thing, they have to deal with him during it. That’s their burden, not his.

He unlocks the door quickly, stepping inside and turning immediately to take off his coat and shoes. 

“Hi, Lou.”

He whirls around so fast he almost gives himself whiplash, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is who’s sitting on the couch, waiting for him.

“What the _fuck_ are _you_ doing here?” He glares at Zayn angrily, wondering why the fuck the asshole is here and what he wants. How did he even fucking know to come here? 

“I heard,” Zayn says softly. “About the cancer. I’m here for you.”

“Here for me? That’s fucking bullshit, Zayn! You stopped being ‘here for me’ the moment you left the goddamn band!”

“Louis, please…I know I fucked up with the whole Naughty Boy thing-”

“Damn right you did.”

“I’ve been a fucking shitty best friend to you recently, and there’s nothing I have to say to defend myself or justify it. I’m just so fucking sorry, Lou. But I’ll be better now. I promise. I’ve changed. And I’m going to be here for you, while you go through this, to prove it. I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s real fucking rich,” Louis snarls. “What, did you fucking rehearse this? String all the right words together in hope that it’ll have me come crawling back to you like I used to? That’s the fakest bullshit I’ve ever heard, Zayn. If you really want to help me, the best thing you can do is get the fuck out.”

…

“Why the fuck is he here?”

Louis wastes no time with pleasantries when he storms into the kitchen, standing in the doorway and glaring at Liam and Harry. “What the actual fuck gave you the right to bring him here without asking me first?!”

“He’s worried, Lou. He wants to help.”

“He implied that I’m no longer part of his life anymore. Why the _fuck_ would he want to come help me now? And more importantly, who fucking gave you the right to tell him I have cancer? That’s my business, not yours to share and tell the entire damn world!”

“Alright, listen.” Liam puts the knife he’s been using to cut potatoes with down and faces Louis. “He and I have been corresponding since you fainted. He called in a panic afterward, he was fucking terrified. He wanted to know what was wrong, and at the time, I couldn’t tell him, because I didn’t even know myself. I told him that coming out would cause a fight between you two, but he said that he’s willing to take whatever you throw at him. He’s not fighting back anymore, he knows he was wrong. You guys have been friends for _five_ years, Louis. Are you really going to throw it away over something like this?”

“Of course you take his side,” Louis growls. “Fucking traitor! He’s the one who hurt _me_! He made me feel like _shit_ , like absolute shit about myself! He made me doubt myself and everything about me! He _hurt_ me! Do you even _care_?!” His outburst ends in a coughing fit, loud, angry, and painful. He hunches over at the waist, hand on his chest, trying to staunch it, to no avail.

A hand rubs his back, and someone leads him to a chair, pressing a glass of water into his hands moments later. Once he’s had a few sips and tried to regulate his breathing, the fit ceases, and he slumps back, looking at Harry tiredly.

“Jesus, that hurt.”

“You need to be careful, Lou,” Harry murmurs, grabbing his hand. “You can’t get all angry like that, it’s not good for your body right now. You need to rest and relax, everything is all okay. Zayn isn’t here to hurt you. No one’s here to hurt you. Everyone wants to help you. You just need to let us.”

“But-”

“No, no buts. The bed’s all set up for you in the other room. There are three bedrooms, and Liam already offered to share with Zayn. So you have a choice between me and Niall, or you can have your own room.”

“I want you.” Louis looks at Harry shyly, squeezing his hand. “And I want you to cuddle with me right now.”

“I can do that.” Harry leans forward and kisses his forehead. “Hey Li, you’ll be okay finishing up dinner, right? Just follow the recipe to a T. Don’t try and deviate from it, or you’ll end up with something inedible. It should come out okay, just as long as you follow the recipe.”

“I’m good, you guys go relax. I’ll call you when it’s done.”

Harry nods, sliding his hands under Louis’ thighs and lifting him to his chest. He carries him easily to one of the bedrooms and drops him on the bed, immediately climbing on afterward. Louis molds his body into Harry’s and rests his head on the other lad’s chest, closing his eyes. 

“Love you, Haz. Thanks, for this.” 

…

“I still really fuckin’ oppose to him being here.”

“Give him a chance, Lou, he wants to help, let him.”

“I don’t want his help.”

“You don’t have to want me here, Louis. In fact, you can throw insult after insult and curse after curse at me, in hope that it’ll get me to leave. But it won’t. I’m okay with being your punching bag for a bit.”

Louis looks at Zayn like he’s just burned him. “And hurt you the way you hurt me? No.”

“So do you care.” A hint of a smile makes its way onto Zayn’s face. “You do care. You don’t want to hurt me. Even though I’ve hurt you. You still don’t want to hurt me. You do care, Louis.”

Louis doesn’t have the chance to reply; he’s interrupted by a doctor coming into the room. 

“Boys, good to see you again. This means you’ve decided on treatment, Louis, that’s great.”

“Sure, call it that.” Louis crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the cushioning of the chair he’s sitting on. “I’m not sure about any of this yet. I just want to know what exactly my options are, so I can decide on one or not decide to do this at all. That’s it.”

“That’s fine.” The doctor sits down in the chair across from him and places his chart on the table. “However, I do want to bring something up. Here in Sweden, the treatments we can do aren’t as good as the care you could get in America, where they’ve already managed to develop advanced techniques of treating this type of cancer. Our sister hospital, one of them, is located in Los Angeles, California. They have the stronger, more powerful drugs that should hopefully kill this thing faster. You’d have a much easier time, in terms of care, treatment, everything. Is that something you’d like to consider?”

Louis nods immediately. “If I’m doing this, I want it done right. We can go to LA, no problem. Does that mean we’re done here?”

The doctor chuckles. “Not quite. I can still outline the options for you here, save you the trip if you decide that you don’t want to go through with any of them.”

“Alright.”

“So, obviously, your first option is chemotherapy. There’s a series of drugs used to treat ALL. Chemo is administered in three phases, over two years. You come in periodically for the administration, and usually, you can go home afterward, but the first few times, you’re kept overnight. The doctors just want to see how your body reacts and make sure it’s working and we’re not just killing off millions of cells for no reason.”

Louis nods. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know here. The side effects of this are hair loss, nausea, vomiting, shit like that, right?”

“Yes. It’s a small price to pay for what you get in return, honestly. Don’t let the side effects deter you. Chemotherapy has been found to be successful in almost 90% of ALL patients.”

“What are my other options?”

“Radiation is an option, although it is usually not used and only turned to when the cancer has progressed to a dangerous level, such as it spreading to the brain, spinal fluid, or testicles.”

“Hang on – you mean, I could lose my balls over this?!”

Laughter erupts behind him, and Louis whips around to glare at Niall. “You’re not the one in danger of losing your balls, shut the fuck up.”

“No, Louis, the testicles rarely have to be removed, in this case. The radiation would prevent it.”

“Please tell me there’s something else.”

“There’s immunotherapy, which can be done multiple ways. I can’t tell you exactly how it will be done, if you choose to go that route, but immunotherapy involves altering your body’s immune system so it can fight the cancer cells. There’s multiple ways of doing this, but I can’t tell you exactly how until we get a set of scans done to see what the cancer is doing inside of you. My opinion wouldn’t be factual until then.”

“Do I need to get scans?”

“I’d advise it, yes, but you can get those done in America. I’ll send your chart and everything down there, so they’ll have everything they need.”

Louis nods again, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. He reaches out to shake the other man’s hand, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry if I’ve seemed like an utter ass about all of this. It’s just…a shock. I wasn’t expecting my life to change like this so quickly. You’ve been great about everything, thank you.”

“It was my pleasure, Louis. And don’t worry – I tell numerous patients they have cancer daily, and your reaction isn’t foreign at all. In fact, you’ve been one of the tamer ones. Good luck with the treatment, and I do hope it goes well. Feel better.”

…

“I didn’t know you still smoke.”

Zayn takes the cigarette out of his mouth and holds it between his fingers, glancing back at Liam. “I don’t do it as often, just when I’m overly stressed about something. I’m trying to cut back.”

“He’s really sick, Z,” Liam admits, sighing. “And it really fucking sucks, because everything was _just_ going back to normal. Everything was just going back to the way it was before…everything…”

“You mean, before I decided to leave and caused an entire shitstorm?” Zayn puts the cigarette back into his mouth and inhales. “Yeah, I know what you mean. The backlash from that still hasn’t stopped, for me, at least.”

“You did what you thought was best.” Liam shrugs. “Doesn’t mean all the fans need to agree with it. They do need to respect your decision, though.”

“I don’t know if they do. But I get it. I mean, five years, and I just decide to end it. It’s like being in a serious relationship for five years, and then randomly being broken up with. It takes a long ass time to get over. I’m okay with that.”

“Why haven’t you been yourself lately?” The question is out of his mouth before he can stop it – the elephant in the room is finally being addressed. Liam’s been trying not to push Zayn, to give him the space he needs, but that doesn’t mean his questions can be left unanswered forever. 

“I don’t know, Li.” Zayn turns his head away and gazes off into the distance, shaking his head. “I really wish I could give you answer, but I don’t have one. I guess…I wanted to forget everything about my old life, after I left. And that was wrong of me. You guys made me who I am, this band made me who I am. It wasn’t fair of me to pretend that didn’t exist, to choose him over you guys. I know that now. But I guess…the damage has already been done.”

“Nothing is irreparable, Z,” Liam tells him gently. “But Louis is really hurt. We all are, for that matter. I’m not going to lie to you and say that I wasn’t pissed about your decision, because I really was. If you had come to one of us when the depressing feelings and shit started, we could’ve done something to help, and avoided you feeling like leaving the band was your only option. But that’s the past, it can’t be changed. It’s different with Louis. You and him were really fuckin’ close, almost as close as he and Harry. That’s real friendship. And you turn around and spring something like this on him, give him no warning, that’s why he’s so upset. Not because you left. Because he thought he meant more to you than what you gave him.”

“He does. He does mean more to me than a lot of people in my life. It’s just that…telling him earlier would’ve meant him trying to convince me to stay, and I really didn’t want to do that. I also really didn’t want to break his heart, but I guess I succeeded anyway.”

“Like I said, nothing is unfixable. Louis can’t stay angry at you forever. But you should give him some space now, don’t overwhelm him. You know how much he hates that.”

Zayn chuckles, humorless and bitter. “I know. I just wish this wasn’t the way things ended. I never meant for it to happen this way. And honestly, I’ve felt so lost without the band that I don’t even know whether I made the right decision. I was right when I said it’s so much harder to be a solo artist. You have no one. And it really does fucking suck, Liam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna admit that having them go to LA was a decision made purely out of convenience - I don't know how these things work in Sweden, and I wasn't really up for doing anymore research. Anyway, thank you so much for reading, I'd love to hear what you thought. My winter break starts Tuesday, so you should have chapters much quicker.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It's been a while. I know I said more frequent updates...shit happened, things snowballed, and I got busy. I'm really sorry about it, but things have calmed down now, and hopefully, updates will go back to being weekly. Anyways, enjoy. Again, keep in mind some of the things have been exaggerated for story purposes.

“This is a very interesting situation…we’ve never had to deal with something like this with one of our artists, so there’s really no protocol or anything set in place for something like this happening.”

“What, did you expect cancer to be avoided when you’re famous?” Louis rolls his eyes at their management team. “I don’t get a get out of jail free card because I’m part of this band, if you hadn’t figured that out already. No one is immune to cancer, not even celebrities. Unfortunately.”

The rep ignores his sarcastic remark, plowing on. “We need to figure out how we’re going to go about releasing the news. I mean, obviously, you guys are going to need to go on a hiatus, and we don’t know how long that’ll be. But we really don’t want to tell the fans you have cancer, it’ll worry them and cause a lot of unnecessary drama and hysteria.”

“Good, neither do I,” Louis replies. “They shouldn’t have to worry about me any more than they already do. You can just say it’s due to medical issues, leave it at that. Leaves room for speculation, but it’s better than saying I have cancer and breaking the internet. It’s not something that’s gonna be taken lightly.”

“Do you know what you plan to do, in terms of treatment and such?”

Louis sighs. “Chemo. But the doctors I talked to said that their sister hospital, in LA, has a much better treatment center and advanced drugs and all that shit. I’d have a much better chance there. I want to go there for treatment. I want the best chance I can get, and that’s the best place to get it.”

“That works out well. We just need to get you a house there – do you think the boys will want to stay with you?”

“Definitely,” Louis answers immediately. “They’re adamant on letting me not go through this alone, so they’ll want to be there for every step. They need to be included in every decision we make, by the way. I’m not doing any of this without them.”

“Does that include Zayn?”

Louis goes silent for a few moments, thinking. The answer is almost obvious, a conclusion he really doesn’t want to come to, but has no choice but to reach. He sighs again, breathing out deeply. His next words are reluctant, but they need to be said. “Yes, it does.”

…

The plane ride to LA is tense.

Zayn flies back with them, and Louis still refuses to speak to him, so the tension is real. So real, in fact, that it could probably be cut with a knife. It’s silent and the silence is really bothering Niall. He’s watching Louis sleep against Harry’s shoulder, sighing to himself. At least the older lad isn’t in any pain, that’s a victory. Small victories are all he has to hope for, at this point. 

Zayn is sitting by himself, looking out the window with earbuds in. And Niall is leaning against Liam’s shoulder, pretending to be asleep but actually just lost in thought, calmed by the soothing sound of Liam’s steady breathing. It’s constant and it makes him feel somewhat better, the sound. At least something in his life is forever constant, unlike every other part of it.

Everything is just a whirlwind right now, and it honestly feels like the tornado they’re in the midst of will never die down. He hasn’t had time to sit down and thoroughly process anything that’s happening, process the fact that they’re on a private plane to LA so they can get top treatment for Louis, who has _cancer_. Cancer kills. Cancer kills, cancer ruins, cancer destroys. It’s awful and heartbreaking and Niall honestly doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to deal with all of this.

Louis is his center – the one who keeps him grounded and pulls him back to Earth when everything gets out of hand. And now, he’s the one who’s sick. He’s sick and he’ll be out of commission for a long time, and call him selfish, but Niall doesn’t know how to function without Louis by his side. It’s really fucking selfish, to rely on someone and be upset about them not being there when they have _cancer_ , of all things, but Niall doesn’t know how else to feel. Nothing makes sense.

This type of cancer is different from common ones like brain cancer or testicular cancer or stomach cancer, those are talked about a lot more than acute lymphocytic leukemia. The type of cancers that involve removing tumors are the ones he knows most about, because those seem to be the easiest to get rid of, that is, if the tumor is removable. But Louis’ cancer is different. There is no tumor, there’s nothing like that that can be removed to get him better. It’s horrible and scary and Niall is so damn terrified they’re going to lose him. They can’t lose him, but they might. 

It’s times like these in which Louis’ litany of reassurances work wonders. Louis knows just what to say and when to say it, a skill not many people possess. Yeah, he can go a little overboard at times, but it’s honestly what Niall loves about him. His fierce overprotectiveness. 

He just wants Louis to be okay. He wants him to be one hundred percent healthy, normal, if you can even call it that. Cancer is scary and he wants Louis not to have it. Hell, he’d take the disease if it meant Louis didn’t have to be plagued with it. Anything to keep Louis safe. Cancer is something no one can be protected from, it’s random and it’s cruel and Niall fucking hates it with a passion. There’s no reason for this to happen, Louis hasn’t done anything to deserve it, but he’s suffering anyway, and it’s just not fair. 

“Niall?”

Niall glances at Liam lazily, tilting his head slightly in response.

“You okay? You keep tensing up…what’s wrong?”

“M’fine. Just thinking. Overthinking.”

Liam’s face softens and he reaches for Niall’s hand, grabbing it and squeezing hard. “Don’t do that. It’s not good to overthink, it’ll only leave you more panicked than you were before. Everything’s okay, everything is going to be just fine. We’re all gonna be just fine.”

“Lou isn’t okay.”

“But he will be,” Liam reassures. “And we’re going to the best hospital possible for his treatment, just to make sure he’s okay. He’s going to come out of this fine, Nialler. You need to believe me on that. He’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“But Louis is strong. Louis is a trooper, and he’s been through so much shit already. This is just another bump in the road, another obstacle for him to overcome and say, ‘I beat it’. Because he will. He’ll beat everything that comes in his path because that’s who he is. And he has the best support system possible. So don’t you worry, everything is going to be fine. Louis is going to be fine.”

Even though Liam’s words are sincere and full of kindness and genuinity, Niall isn’t sure he believes them. Liam can’t see the future. He can’t foresee any complications that could happen. He doesn’t know for sure that Louis is going to come out of this unscathed, or even alive, for that matter. That’s something Niall kinda hates about Liam – the way he makes empty promises that may or may not be broken. Liam doesn’t know and can’t say for sure, so he shouldn’t make a promise he may or may not be able to keep. It’ll just hurt more in the end.

Liam pulls him in closer, and Niall just breathes out heavily, trying to relax and forget about what’s going on, although it’s seemingly impossible. There’s no way to escape reality, not when it’s this shitty of a place. There is no fantasy world that could ever take his mind off the threatening world he lives in and how fucking shitty it is. If the world was a good place, an ideal place, people like Louis wouldn’t get cancer. People like Louis wouldn’t have to wonder whether they will live to see the next day or not. People like Louis would be given the world and so much more, because that’s all he deserves.

…

“Hey, Lou, is your mum gonna come down or something? Do the kids know about everything, or is it just your mum and Dan?”

“For right now, only my mum knows,” Louis replies. “I don’t want to tell more people yet. Not until everything’s finalized with the treatment and everything. And even when we do put out a statement, I don’t want to tell the fans I have _cancer_ , that’ll just terrify them and hurt them and cause unnecessary panic. We can just say that it’s due to medical issues, and leave it at that. There’s no need to get them worked up over this.”

“They’ll get worked up over it whether you tell them what’s wrong or not,” Liam points out. “That’s the way our fans are. They worry a lot, and then they start trending hashtags of love and shit on Twitter to make our days brighter. It’s really sweet. And besides, don’t you think we owe them the truth, for once? We’ve lied to them about so many things, kept so many things hidden from them for our benefit, rather than theirs. I think it’s time we started being transparent.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Don’t you remember what happened when Zayn left?”

“What?”

“Cut for Zayn,” Zayn replies, downcast. “It was a hashtag that trended after I left. Some fans even killed themselves because I left. These fans aren’t people who take things like this lightly. Louis is right, it could backfire terribly.”

“Jesus christ,” Niall mutters. “I always knew the fans were crazy, but this…this isn’t crazy, this is dangerous. That’s not something you do for someone you don’t even know personally. It makes no fuckin’ sense.”

“To us.” Louis shrugs and leans back in his chair. “Nothing will make sense about it to us. We’ve never been on the receiving end of things. And yeah, cutting and committing suicide for us is extremely dangerous and it shouldn’t be something that we take lightly, but at the same time, we don’t know what’s running through these girls’ heads. It could be that life was shit entirely and we were their one place of escape, and then Zayn left and it pushed them over the edge, we don’t know.”

“That’s still really fucking fucked up.”

And it is. Having fans kill themselves over a band is something extremely serious, and honestly, it shouldn’t happen. People shouldn’t have to rely so much on bands – people shouldn’t be pushed to the point where a band is their only source of happiness. It’s not right. The world shouldn’t be that fucked up. There can’t be that many things wrong with reality. The fans need to be able to hold themselves up in the water, they need to be able to rely on themselves – because honestly, they are so much stronger than any of them thinks they are. They just don’t realize it. 

“Lou, when’s your appointment tomorrow?”

“10.”

“You want us all there, right?”

“Well, I’d prefer if Zayn didn’t come, but seeing as I don’t really have a choice, yeah, sure, whatever.”

“I said I was sorry, Louis. I don’t know what hoop I’m going to have to jump through for you to accept that, but I really am sorry. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you and I’ll do it, anything.”

“Why’d you do it in the first place?” Louis drops his head to look down at his shoes, not meeting Zayn’s gaze. He knows that if he does, he’ll start crying, and that’s the last thing he wants to happen right now.

“I don’t know, Lou…” Zayn rubs a hand over his face and sighs. “I guess…I guess I just wanted to feel like I could do what I want, without management breathing down my neck. I wanted to feel that freedom. And it was selfish and shitty of me and I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much I regret it. But it’s over and done with and I can’t change the fact that I hurt you, I can’t. But I miss you, Lou. You were my best friend, and I really fuckin’ miss you. You probably don’t miss me, but I really miss you.”

…

“I don’t know what to do, Haz. I mean, I really miss him too, but…I just can’t get over what he did overnight. It doesn’t work that way. And letting this go means that he’ll think he can do something like this again and get away with it, and fuck, I just…I really want to forgive him, but I don’t know if that’s the best idea…”

“It’s been three months since he left, and over a month since he tweeted that shitty thing to you. You can forgive him if you want to, but you don’t have to decide anything right now. Tomorrow’s a big day for you, Lou. Just focus on that.”

“I don’t want to focus on that, Haz. I don’t want to think about it. I just wish it had never happened, I want it to go away forever.”

“I know you do, and it know it’s not fair and honestly, you don’t deserve any of this, but it’s happening, and you need to get through it the best you can. And remember, all of us are here with you, you’re not alone. You’ll never be alone through this, I promise.”

“But none of you will know how it feels…I’m the only one who has to go through this and I don’t want to…I don’t want it to be real. Any of it.”

“Oh, Lou…” Harry pulls him into his chest and hugs him tightly, rubbing his back as Louis breathes shakily into his shoulder. These are signs of an oncoming panic attack, but he just hopes Louis is able to calm himself down from it. These things are not easy to be talked down from, and they take a lot out of a person. They say the exhaustion after a panic attack is likened to the exhaustion after running a marathon. They’re not joking. Louis is usually a mess afterward, until he finally falls asleep. He’s always tired. They take a lot of out a person.

“Breathe, babe, breathe.”

Louis’ chest heaves, as he struggles to get a breath of air. He sucks in too much too quickly and ends up coughing, choking on nothing. It makes no sense, nothing makes sense. This isn’t supposed to be happening. 

“Just try and calm down. You can breathe, you’re fine. Everything is going to be okay. Tomorrow is going to go just as scheduled, and everything is going to work out fine, I promise. You need to calm down, this isn’t good for your body right now. You’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t calm down, babe.”

Louis heaves again, and Harry holds his breath, praying it won’t end in vomiting. The small boy slumps against him tiredly, coughing and hacking painfully. At least he’s not vomiting, but he still doesn’t look so good. This cancer is really taking a toll, considering how bad his immune system is. 

And it’s only going to get worse from hereon out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is considerably shorter than usual, but the next chapter is extremely long (hint: Louis has a conversation with his mum that's four pages long on Word), and I hope to have it up sometime this weekend, so you won't be waiting too long.
> 
> Something else I wanted to bring up...I haven't been receiving as much feedback lately, so I really hope you guys are enjoying this. It helps to have opinions so I can try and make my writing better, and I'd love to hear what you liked and what ou didn't. Reading your comments makes my day a lot better. :)
> 
> Enough of me rambling, enjoy the chapter.

“Lou still asleep?”

Harry nods, sliding into a seat at the table. “Out cold. Good thing too. He had another panic attack last night.”

“Jesus christ, what?”

“He overthinks and works himself up until he can’t breathe,” Harry explains softly, smiling as Liam places a mug of coffee in front of him. “Thanks, Li. It’s something he’s always done. When we were on the X-factor, he’d have panic attacks right before our performances, but make sure he was alone or with me when they happened. He didn’t want any of you to know about them, but now…he’s having them more often because he’s so scared he’s not going to survive this.”

“So, deep down inside, he does want to fight, and he does want to survive. He’s just scared of what it’ll do to him, scared of what it’ll take to beat this. I can understand that.” Liam nods thoughtfully. “It’s shitty for him, but I can understand where he’s coming from on it.”

“Louis is the oldest,” Zayn says from where he’s sitting on the ledge. “And I think that he feels a certain set of responsibilities because of it. Liam, you’ve always been considered the unofficial ‘father’ of the band, but Louis is the comic relief, the ray of light in the darkness, the force that keeps us all going. We’d fall apart without him. His jokes, his sense of humor, his honesty, kindness, everything about him…he does it for us. He’s the type of person who tries to make everyone else happy before himself. And while that’s good, it means he neglects himself.”

“I think the reason he didn’t want to fight this at first was because he wanted to be the flawless role model the fans see him as. He didn’t want to look weak, like there was something wrong with him. Like you said, he wants to make everyone else happy before himself. He’s willing to put the fans before himself.” Niall glances down at his feet. “And he doesn’t care what happens to him because of it. That Twitter fight you two got into? It started because he was defending the fans from that fucking ass you thought you were friends with. He was doing it for the fans, not for himself.”

“And I turned it into something so much bigger than it was meant to be.” Zayn sighs. “I didn’t realize it until after I tweeted that. And even if I deleted it, the affect the words had wouldn’t go away. It wouldn’t make a difference. But I get what you’re saying. Louis is so damn selfless, but I really wish he was fighting for himself, not for the fans. I wish he was doing to because he wants to beat this for _him_ , not for the fans.”

“In a way, he is. He wants to see Ernest and Doris grow up. He wants to be there when Ernest needs a male role model aside from Dan. He wants to be proof that cancer doesn’t mean your life is over, for all our fans who have it or have struggled with it in the past. He wants to do so many things, be so many things, but he’ll always put everyone else before himself. It’s just the way he works. It’s not something we can change about him.”

“I know we’ve all said and thought this.” Niall leans back in his chair and turns his attention to his fingers. “But Louis really, _really_ doesn’t deserve this. He’s the last person on this planet to deserve something like this. Not even because we’re famous, because he’s so fuckin’ selfless and loyal and fiercely overprotective. He’s everything I ever want to be, he’s the best role model ever. The girls who dedicate their entire lives to him aren’t idiots – they’re who I’d be if I wasn’t in the bad meself. Louis is so fucking important to all of our lives, and he’s honestly the last person who deserves something like this. I fuckin’ hate that this happened to him.”

“Okay, look, I know you all love me and shit, but all this ‘I didn’t deserve this’ bull is getting really annoying.” Louis yawns and stumbles into the kitchen, collapsing into the last empty chair at the table. “I know you all think I don’t deserve to have cancer, and I don’t, no one does, but let’s face reality here. I have cancer. There are cancer cells all over my body right now, and there is nothing any of us can do to change that. There’s nothing any of us could’ve done to prevent it, either. So stop saying I didn’t deserve it, because no one who has it deserves it. Cancer doesn’t pick and choose. It’s random and fucked up and devastating. But I’m not the only one who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Here, Lou.” Liam slides him a cup of tea. “Your appointment is in a couple hours.”

Louis nods silently, focusing his gaze on Niall, waiting for a response from the blond.

Niall shakes his head, sighing. “I know what you’re saying, Lou, and I get it, but…you’ve done so much for me and for a lot of fans, and I just don’t understand why this had to happen to you, of all people. It doesn’t make sense. And I really wish it didn’t. Things were finally starting to be okay again. Everything was starting to calm down. And then this shit happens. And now I’m left wondering why shitty things happen to good people, because it really fuckin’ sucks.”

“Shitty things happen to good people, and it really does suck,” Louis repeats. “But by fighting those shitty things, people get stronger. This is only gonna make me stronger. If I can beat this, I can do anything. Beating cancer is impossible in some cases, I’m beating the impossible. I’m making the impossible possible.”

“Last week you were ready to accept your death from this, and now you’re talking about surviving and beating it,” Liam points out. “What changed?”

“I talked to my mum,” Louis replies. “And she helped bring me back to Earth and realize what I have right in front of me, what opportunities are just waiting for me to take them. There are so many people who have cancer who can’t fight it because they can’t afford the treatment. And if I don’t even bother trying, how fuckin’ selfish am I? When I can afford it and all. At least, I need to try it. If it doesn’t work, that’s another thing, but I gotta fuckin’ try.”

…

“Alright, everything checks out great, Louis. We can start the first round of chemo right now, if you’re up for it?”

Louis hesitates. He glances down over himself, trying to estimate what he’d look like even after only one session. The change in body weight and size is dramatic, although not after just one session. It progresses over time, but he’s still going to end up looking like a skeleton. This is just beginning the process, and it’s really not something he wants to start. He likes the way he looks now – he’s not too thin, but not fat either. The chemo is going to make quick work of that.

“He’s up for it,” Harry answers softly. Louis turns around and looks at him in shock, as if Harry has just burned him in some way by volunteering him for something he clearly isn’t mentally ready for. “Lou, you need to start sometime. And if you keep overthinking it and putting it off, it’s never going to happen. Just bite the bullet and do it. You’ll feel better afterward.”

“No, I’ll probably puke my guts up, but I’m sure that doesn’t matter to you, since you won’t be going through it.” He’s snarky and already irritable and they haven’t even put the shit in his veins yet. This is going to be fun.

The doctor leads them down multiple hallways and through some rooms, until he finally comes to an open one, where a nurse is setting up an IV pole. There’s an empty bed in the middle of the room, and a hospital gown sitting right in the middle.

“You don’t have to put it on if it makes you feel uncomfortable or exposed.” The nurse smiles kindly at him, trying to make this better, when honestly, _nothing_ could make this experience better for him. 

He nods to her, and grabs the gown, putting it off to the side. There is no way he’s changing into that thing. It feels like paper, it’s so damn thin, and honestly, he doesn’t want his ass hanging out for everyone to see and it looks like it won’t do anything to keep him warm. Why would anyone wear those things voluntarily? It makes no damn sense.

He gets onto the bed as she tells him, closing his eyes and just waiting for her to do her thing. The more questions he asks and the more sights he sees, the sicker he’s starting to feel. It’s easier just to let her do her job and sit back and allow himself to be poked like a pincushion. It’s irritating, but her job is done and then he won’t have to deal with people prodding at him and poking at him and completely violating his privacy. Not that that doesn’t happen on a daily basis.

“Alright, we’re just going to infuse you with saline for a bit, and then we’ll start the chemo. We’re giving you anti-anxiety and anti-nausea meds to combat the symptoms, but there still might be symptoms anyway. There’s a bin just next to you if you need to vomit, and if you feel dizzy, just close your eyes and try and let it pass. Don’t panic over it, or you might end up fainting, and we really don’t want that.”

Isn’t that obvious? Louis sighs to himself and nods slightly, just hoping she’ll be on her way so he can be alone. It’s bad enough that he has to go through this, he’d prefer to go through it without people hovering over him.

“Can you guys all like, go?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his face. “Not that I don’t love you, but I’m starting to feel a little claustrophobic.”

“Are you sure, Lou?”

“I’m sure. Just Harry, stay. Don’t wanna be completely alone, just don’t want everyone in here crowding around me. It makes me feel like some damn museum exhibit and it’s really fuckin’ suffocating.”

“Understandable, Lou.” Liam squeezes his hand. “Feel better, okay?”

“No promises.”

…

“You think he’ll be okay?”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Nialler.” Liam glances at Niall reassuringly, as they take seats in the hospital cafeteria. “Those doctors know exactly what they’re doing, he’ll be just fine.”

He’s lost count of the amount of times he’s said the word ‘fine’, in the past couple days. Surely, if he had a dollar for every time he said the word, he’d be a million dollars richer. It’s like he’s repeating it so many times to convince himself that Louis is going to be okay. More than Niall, he’s trying to make himself believe it. 

This entire thing is so fucked up and it’s hard to stay calm and collected when one of the people he considers a brother is going through absolute hell. It’s hard. He wants to do something, anything, to help Louis, and he can’t. He’s utterly useless in this case and the feeling fucking sucks. Louis needs help, and none of them can do anything. There’s no definite cure for cancer. They can treat it, but it can keep recurring just as fast. Once you’re stuck with it, there’s no determination whether you’ll spend the rest of your life cancer free or not. That’s something Liam really fucking hates about all of this.

It’s just really hard to pretend that everything is okay, because it’s not. He’s a fan of that – pretending everything’s okay when it’s actually so fucked up that he has no idea where to turn anymore. Life is fucking unfair and sucks for everyone and wallowing in self-pity helps nothing, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know what else he _can_ do.

Nothing is okay and nothing is fixable, rendering him useless. And the feeling of uselessness cuts deep, enough to eat away at him from the inside, because Louis is sick and _no one_ can do anything to help him. Everything is so fucked up.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the feedback last chapter, it's kinda comforting to know you guys are still on board with this story. I promised a new chapter this weekend, so here it is. Next one should be up Friday. Enjoy.

He’s already puked twice.

So much for anti-nausea medication, it obviously didn’t work. He’s already puked twice, and he’s miserable. His body is aching and he feels so confined to this fucking bed. He can’t even get up to use the bathroom – there’s a catheter for that, and it’s so fucking humiliating. He has to piss while Harry’s in the room watching, and it is utterly torturous. Chemo is nothing like people make it out to be. Sure, it’s helping to get rid of his cancer, but the journey to that is nothing short of agonizing. 

“Hey Lou, your mum’s on the phone, do you wanna talk to her?”

Louis nods, reaching for the phone. Harry hands it to him and makes his way outside, giving him some privacy, which Louis greatly appreciates. Maybe a talk with his mum will help him. Right now, he doesn’t ever want to come back for a second infusement, but maybe she can change his mind. She’s done it before. She’s the reason he’s sitting in this chair and going through this shit. 

“Hi baby, I heard you’re starting the chemo today. How’s it going?”

“I fuckin’ hate it, mum.” Louis almost whimpers into the phone, his mother’s voice serving immediately to break the resolve he’s built up. “I’m sorry for swearing, it’s just…I’ve already puked twice and my stomach hurts and my head hurts and I’m so tired and I can’t get up and stretch my legs or even piss. It’s such agony.”

“Oh, baby…” Her voice shifts to the softer tone it’s always adopted when one of her children is in pain. The calming, soothing one that Louis relies on to keep sane. He loves it. “Have they given you any anti-nausea medication? I read online that it’s supposed to help…”

“They did, at the beginning, but I don’t think it’s working. Everything hurts…”

“It’s your first session, sweetheart. The drugs are new and your body doesn’t recognize them. It’s bound to be bad this time, but it’ll get easier, I promise.”

“Don’t promise,” Louis mutters. “What if you can’t keep it?”

“Louis, baby, you need to stop thinking about it so negatively. That’s bound to be impacting your experience. If you think it’s going to be crappy, it probably will be. It’s all about your state of mind.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Louis hates to sound ungrateful and selfish, he knows he sounds like an utter asshole, but he can’t help it. “How is a presence of mind going to impact the experience? It’ll hurt whether I’m happy about it or not, so why be happy about something causing me a shitton of pain?”

“Because it’s giving you your life,” Jay replies softly. “And anything is a small price to pay for your life, baby. Anything. Your life is the most precious and valuable thing in the world. Anything you have to give up for it is worth it. You may not believe me now, and you’re feel to call me crazy and tell me that’s utter bull, but you’ll believe it later. You’ll understand later on.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m positive, sweetheart. Now, would you like to keep talking about how bad you feel, or do you want to hear some stories about what’s been happening at home?”

Louis almost squeals into the phone at that. There’s never a dull moment in that household, that’s for sure. The antics his siblings get into are so laughable, it’ll definitely take his mind off the chemo and how much pain he’s in. He loves his mum’s ideas, he really does. She always seems to know the right thing to do, maybe it’s a mum thing.

“So, Ernest and Doris are learning to walk, and it’s actually quite frustrating, because one of them picks it up and walks a couple of steps, falls, starts crying, and then the other follows. I’ve got Dais and Phoebs running after them, it’s very funny to see. I should take a video and send it to you.”

“Please do,” Louis begs. “I miss you guys so much…I’m missing everything…”

“Oh no baby, no you’re not. You were there when Daisy and Phoebe were going through all of this. And Ernest and Doris hear every night what a hero their big brother is, how many people he makes happy every day, how many people’s lives he’s saved just by being him. You are extraordinary, sweetheart. I couldn’t ask for anything more. You have made me so happy and so proud of you over the years, it’s so hard to describe how much I love you.”

“Oh god, mum.” Tears are freely rolling down his cheeks, as he chokes out a sob. He’s an emotional person by nature, and sometimes, the littlest things make him cry. He can still remember back to the Story of My Life video shoot, where they had to shoot the scene with his grandparents over five times, because he couldn’t pull himself together and stop crying. “You’re making me cry.”

“Payback for what you do to me each day, eh? Louis, love, I hate that you’re not home and I don’t get to see you and hold you through all of this, because I would love nothing more. You are my baby firstborn and you will always hold a special place in my heart. But I raised you to be strong and you honestly don’t know the capabilities of your own strengths, sweetheart. You are so strong and it amazes me, sometimes, because I highly doubt I’d be able to go through what you do every day and come out of it with as clear of a head as you have. You’re remarkable.”

“Mum…” He sobs into the phone. “Mum, I really miss you. I really fucking miss you, I wish you were here.”

“Would you like me to come, baby? I can have Dan stay with the kids, I’d be able to be there by tomorrow.” 

His mum is the most selfless person ever. She’s willing to drop everything for him, despite the fact that she has six kids to take care of and two of them are currently infants. She is fully invested in making sure he has the best care possible, and Louis couldn’t be happier. He loves his mum, the way he feels about her is very different from how most people his age feel about their mums. In a way, this fame thing has been good for their relationship – it’s only brought them closer, made them feel like all time is precious and sometimes there isn’t any better of a gift. Fame has taught him a lot, and one of the biggest lessons he’s learned is to keep his family close. He really needs them in times like this.

“You have a family to take care of, mum. The kids are only babies. Dan can’t handle them _and_ the girls.”

“I think he can, love. And he’s more than willing to, for this reason. He’s actually asked me to come up, I just wanted to see whether you’d be okay with it, first.”

“I’d love to have you here, mum. But you don’t need to come. I’m okay, I promise. I have the boys, we’re fine. Everything is okay down here.”

“Louis. What are you not telling me? Baby, I’ve told you, don’t hide things from me. It makes it worse in the end. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“Zayn’s here,” Louis whispers. “He came down to Sweden while we were there, and flew back here with us. He wants to make things right mum, he’s so sorry for what he did, with Twitter and leaving and everything, but I just…I don’t know, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know whether to forgive him, even. He really hurt me, mum.”

“What do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Louis, you’re talking about not knowing what to do, but you know what you _want_ to do. You know what you want to do about this, you’re just refusing to believe it. It’s there. What do you want to do? Do you want to forgive him and let him back into your life, or do you want to forget his existence? You know the answer.”

Louis is silent for a few minutes. He closes his eyes and thinks, but his mum is right. The answer is obvious, he’s just been hiding from it, trying to disprove what’s right in front of him. It’s like Liam said, the answer is always there, even when you don’t want to believe it. It’s always there.

“I think I want to forgive him.”

“Don’t think, _know_. You need to be sure. What do you want to do about this?”

“I want to forgive him, mum. I want my best friend back. I want things to go back to normal. I want us to go back to normal.”

“There you go,” Jay replies gently. “There’s your answer. You know what you want to do, it’s just hard to accept. It’s hard to accept that you still want to forgive despite what he did to you. But you have a good heart, baby, you’re very forgiving. You’ve known Zayn for five years, and this is so uncharacteristic of him. You know the real Zayn. Would he do something like this to you?”

“He said that he was trying to forget all of his old life in turn for the new, and he now knows it’s wrong and it was stupid of him. He’s apologized profusely, ended things with Naughty Boy…he’s done all he can do, mum…”

“So now the ball is in your court. And you’ve just told me that you want to forgive him. So what’s the problem here, love? What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t want to get hurt again,” Louis confesses. “I don’t want a repeat of the same thing happening. I don’t want to be hurt by him again. I don’t think I could take it. I just…I don’t know.”

“And that’s a risk you need to take, baby.” She sighs into the phone, almost like she’s remembering something painful. It confuses him. “You need to take those kinds of risks sometimes, because people aren’t black and white. No one is that transparent. There is always a grey area, and with human beings, it’s evident. And people change. Not everyone is the same as they were in the past. You are certainly an example. Sixteen year old Louis would have scoffed in your face if you told him that he’d eventually become part of the world’s biggest boyband.”

“He really would, wouldn’t he have?” Louis smiles amusedly and marvels at the thought of his sixteen year old self calling bullshit on the entire thing. It’s absolutely true. He’d definitely not believe that he’d eventually go on to play stadiums with his best friends and save lives of so many girls every day he’s alive. It’s hard to believe that will eventually be your life.

“Of course he would have. But that’s not the point here. Zayn has changed, whether you see it or not. He’s not the same person he was a couple months ago, baby. I don’t know whether you recognize it or not, but if you don’t see it, it’s because you’re refusing to. It’s hard to stay on the same path of your mistakes without realizing them. Zayn has realized and learned and it’s okay to forgive him. He did some really stupid things, I’ll admit, but haven’t we all?”

“Does that excuse it, though? It shouldn’t.”

“You’re absolutely right, it shouldn’t excuse the way he behaved. However, you five were thrown into an extraordinary situation, something no one in their wildest dreams expected. It’s hard to be thrust into the spotlight at 16, 17, 18, right baby? It’s hard. And he spent five years being told what to do, being told how to behave, having people scrutinize and analyze his every move – when he finally got out, the freedom of being able to do and say what he wanted probably just got to him. Is that right?”

Louis nods, but then remembers she can’t see it. “That’s almost word for word what he said to us about it. We’ve all grown so used to being on camera, but he never really liked it. And all the paps and everything…he hated it all. When he finally escaped it, he got high off the power he had, basically. He said he didn’t mean any of it.”

“And he probably didn’t, baby. But we can analyze this for days on end, wondering whether he meant it or not. You’ve talked to him, he’s told you his side of the story, and he knows you’re hurt. And if I know Zayn as well as I think I do, I know that he’s doing everything he can to try and win your trust back. You two were always very close, baby, and I think he really does miss you.”

“So you think I should forgive him…”

“I’m not saying you should go back to the way you were instantly, you are entitled to be cautious around him for a while. But yes, I think you should forgive him. He was wrong, but he’s admitted it and it’s time to move on. If we shamed people for every single thing they did wrong, there would be no good people in this world, now would there?”

“No…you’re right.”

“Of course I am, I’m a mum.” She chuckles at that. “But really sweetheart, you don’t need to forgive him, and you absolutely don’t need to do it because I think you should. You are your own person, and this is your decision. Do with it what you will. You’ve heard what I have to say, you’ve heard what Zayn has to say, now it’s your say. What do you want to do?”

“I want to forgive him, mum. I want my best mate back.”

…

“Hey Haz? Can you go get Zayn for me?”

Harry looks surprised at Louis’ request, but nods all the same and disappears from the room. He obviously didn’t expect something like this, considering how bitter Louis has been toward Zayn in the past few days. Louis sighs. This is not going to be easy, but it needs to be done. Zayn has repented enough for his mistakes. It’s time to stop torturing him, to stop rubbing his face in what he’s done like he’s a dog. It’s cruel and Louis realizes that now.

“Harry said you wanted to see me?” 

Zayn stands in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, looking quite surprised himself. It’s not a foreign reaction – from how Louis has treated him in the past few days, he has every right to be a little suspicious and cautious. But everything is going to change now.

“I forgive you,” Louis says simply. “I’m tired of fighting with you. This doesn’t help anything. I miss you, I want my best mate back.”

Zayn’s eyes widen almost comically, and Louis smiles. His genuine reaction only serves to further prove his mum’s point. Zayn really does regret what he did. His genuine regret means that he isn’t doing this just for show, he really does want to get back on Louis’ good side. He wants things to go back to the way they were just as much as Louis does. It’s just a matter of Louis forgiving him, and he’s finally ready to take that step. And goddamn, does it feel good to do it. Louis feels a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

“Are you serious?”

Louis nods. “Serious as a heart attack.”

“Oh fucking hell, Louis, thank you so much.” Happiness is glittering in Zayn’s eyes, and the smile that’s lighting up his face can only be classified as precious. He’s truly elated by this.

“Come here you tosser.” Louis beckons him immediately, grinning. “Give me a hug. I’ve missed you.”

The hug they share next is one of the best Louis has ever received in his life.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for mentions of suicide and depression in this chapter. Be careful. The more triggering part of this story is going to pick up now. As always, message me on tumblr (theghostofashton) if you're triggered and can't read a certain chapter. I'll give you a quick synopsis so you'll still know what's going on.

It’s really good to have Zayn back in his life.

Although he’d never admit that to the public, hell, he wouldn’t even tell Harry, having Zayn back as a friend definitely has a lot of benefits. It’s easy to get back into the swing of things with him – it’s easy to regain lost time and act like the best friends they used to be. 

There’s something different about Zayn – it’s kind of easy to realize that your best friend is one who understands you even when you’re not wearing your heart on your sleeve, even when you’re not putting your emotions out there in the open for everyone to see and judge. Your best friend understands without having to be told, and that’s something Louis loves about Zayn. It’s something Zayn has always been able to do – the best out of all of the four of them. Zayn understands Louis the best.

There’s certain things he doesn’t even have to explain anymore, Zayn just understands them. He knows without having to be told. Probably part of the rest he was so adamant on staying and being there for Louis – Zayn knows how he works, and he knows very well that Louis would definitely want him there, even if he didn’t admit it. It’s some kind of connection – one that seems unable to be severed.

Louis blinks, startled out of his thoughts when he sees Zayn walk back into his hospital room shoving a pack of cigarettes back into his back pocket. He tilts his head, trying to remember if he’s seen Zayn smoke anytime recently. It’s been so long since Zayn has even considered this – it’s hard to imagine.

“You still smoke?”

“Just when I’m stressed,” Zayn offers, pulling up a chair. “I’m sorry. I know you won’t like hearing it, but it’s because of you…this is scary, Lou. The cancer thing. Fuck. Like, the whole fifty percent chance of survival and everything…I just got you back. You can’t die on me now.” His voice breaks during the last sentence, and he squeezes his eyes shut, forcing tears back. 

It’s heartbreaking. Louis knows that they’ve been affected negatively throughout all of this – but all of them have been putting their emotions aside to care for him, and honestly, he both appreciates and hates it. It’s not fair for them to do things detrimental to their own emotional and mental stability, but at the same time, the love he’s being smothered with is something he’s grown accustomed to. He just doesn’t know how to react to all of it. He wants them to focus on themselves too; he’s not the most important thing in the universe, he just doesn’t know why it’s so hard for them to accept that. 

“I’m not dying on you.” That statement is one hundred percent true. Louis has no intention of dying from this. People can talk about death rates all they want, but his decision to fight involved completely ridding his mind of even the slightest chance he might die. And he isn’t going to die. That’s something set in stone. He’ll do whatever he has to, to fight. Dying isn’t an option. 

Zayn smiles weakly, reaching up to swipe away tears. “You don’t know that for sure, Lou. You may not want to die, and none of us want that. But it could happen anyway. Cancer is fuckin’ random.”

“And the chemo might not work, and I might catch pneumonia and that might be the end,” Louis quips sarcastically. “If we spend all our time focusing on those negative things, we’re going to be spending most of our lives sad and stressed and upset, and in your case, destroying your lungs. You don’t need to smoke because you’re worried about me. You don’t need to fucking _give yourself cancer_ because you’re worried about me having it.”

Zayn’s eyes widen slightly. “That doesn’t…don’t say that, Lou…”

“Why not? It’s true. You’re giving yourself cancer by doing this. If you’re so damn worried about me having cancer, why would you do things that contributed to you possibly getting it? Lung cancer seems a fuckton more serious than what I have.”

“That’s not fair,” Zayn whispers, his voice starting to crack. “Don’t do that to me…this is the only vice I have. This is my stress reliever. It’s just like cutting or starving or a drug addiction. This is my vice. Don’t take it away by making me feel guilty for doing it, please Lou. I don’t have anything else.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Louis rolls his eyes. “You have me. Talk to me about shit when you get stressed. Don’t go out and light up. It’s not helping anything, I can promise you that.”

“It clears my mind and helps me not be stressed.”

“It doesn’t, Z. You just think that it does. And you managed to quit before. If I remember correctly, it was because our fans were so terrified it’d kill you. You quit for them. The risks aren’t any less serious now. There’s no magical chemical in cigarettes that does a lick of good for you. Do you know how many carcinogens you’re putting into your body with every one?”

“What am I supposed to do, Lou?” Zayn sighs and shakes his head. “An addiction is an addiction. Serious, something hard to get rid of. There’s never not going to be a time when I crave cigarettes. It’s like self-harmers not craving a blade every second of the day, even when they’ve been clean. It just doesn’t happen.”

“Have you tried?” Louis challenges immediately. He needs Zayn to understand his point on the matter. Smoking is so detrimental to his health, and he needs to know that. He needs to be convinced of how fucking dangerous it is.

“I did, remember? I quit. And it was agonizing, Lou. I don’t think I can do it again. And it’s not like I smoke one a day, either. Maybe a few a week, if that. It’s not nearly as bad as it’s been in the past.”

“It shouldn’t be happening, Z,” Louis stresses. “Every cigarette contains those shitty chemicals, whether you smoke one a day or twenty. It doesn’t matter. Cutting back isn’t any less harmful.”

“I know that. I know the dangers. Part of me doesn’t care. Part of me wouldn’t care if I was dead right now, Louis.” His words are so alarming but his voice is so nonchalant, like it doesn’t faze him, even when he’s talking about his own suicidal thoughts. It makes Louis’ skin crawl.

“Why the fuck haven’t you said anything about being suicidal earlier?”

“I’m not suicidal. I don’t _want_ to die. I just wouldn’t mind dying. I’d be okay with it. But even so, it’s not a subject that comes up in random dinner conversation, ‘oh hey, guess what? I thought about killing myself today, I might actually do it!’. It’s not something I flaunt around.”

“When did this start?” Louis stares him up and down, trying to gauge something from Zayn’s appearance. Although his outer looks don’t give away much, the dark circles under his eyes and the overall haggard state he seems to be in say a lot. 

“Just before I wanted to leave the band. I wasn’t happy. Not at all. And I thought leaving the band would help.”

“But?”

Zayn sighs again, remorseful. “It didn’t. If anything, it made everything worse. It felt like a part of me was missing. Five parts, rather. The four of you, and the part of me that I used to be. Everything was missing. I was barely a person anymore. Nothing felt right.”

“So why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t think you cared.” Zayn moves his gaze to the floor, not daring to look up. “I didn’t think I was of any importance to you, after I left. I knew what it’d do to you. I knew you wouldn’t want to even think my name, let alone hear my voice or see my face. You weren’t an option and we both know it, Lou. You were pissed after you heard my decision.”

Louis nods. “I was. I’ll admit it. I was fucking pissed at you and if you had called me I probably would’ve told you to go along with killing yourself.” Zayn winces at that statement, and Louis knows it would’ve turned into a much bigger fight, had Zayn called him. Zayn may be an idiot, but he’s not fucking stupid. He knows Louis by now, he knows how he’ll react to certain things, and this is no different. 

“Exactly why I didn’t say anything.”

“But Jesus, Zayn. Keeping it to yourself didn’t do anything for anyone, did it? It made you feel worse, and it’s making me feel like shit now, because I didn’t notice. Everything is fucked up.”

“Seems like I’m good at that. Fucking things up.” A humorless chuckle escapes his lips. “I’m great at pissing people off and fucking things up and making people hate me. That seems to be all I do these days, anyway.”

“Shut up,” Louis replies. “And what about your parents and sisters? Did you go back to Bradford? Spending time with your family would have definitely helped. It’s why I went to see my mum after I got diagnosed. She helped me get back to Earth, to see things more clearly.”

“I haven’t been back,” Zayn admits. “Not since I left the band. I went home and chickened out of actually going back to my house. I stayed at a hotel because I was so fucking scared to face my family. I think they all hate me. Well, Safaa and Waliyha probably do. They love the band. And I broke it.”

“You didn’t break anything,” Louis admonishes. “If anything, you made us stronger. You helped us to grow closer together. You made us realize how much we all really need each other, Z. You did everything but break the band.”

“I don’t know what my mum and dad would think of all of this, anyway. Like, I started this, came onto the X-Factor, to repay them for all they’ve done for me. And now it’s like I’m giving up. All I am to them is a disappointment.”

“Stop it, fucking hell, shut up with the self-deprecating bullshit!” Louis’ voice rises an octave, his anger evident. “I hate seeing you talk about yourself like that. It’s utter bullshit. They don’t hate you, Z. Your mum and dad, they don’t, they could never. You’re their son, their only son, their baby, as my mum likes to call me. You’ve done so much to repay them. You bought your mum a fucking _house_. It may just be me, but I think that’s repayment enough. When your parents made the decision to have kids, they accepted the responsibility of having to raise them and fund them until they’re 18. You don’t need to spend your entire life paying them back for something they are supposed to do. It doesn’t work that way.”

“They did such a good job, taking care of us. I feel like I owe them.”

“You don’t. And even if you did, you’ve paid it back in more ways than one.” Louis sighs. “Z, you have to stop beating yourself up for things that aren’t your fault. It doesn’t make sense, and all it does is depresses you. That’s where these suicidal thoughts are coming from. Stop feeling guilty for shit that isn’t your fault. It’ll destroy you in the end. No person can handle that much guilt on their shoulders.”

Instead of waiting for a reply, he shifts in the bed, enough so he’s able to pull Zayn into a hug. The younger lad looks slightly alarmed, but stands and hugs Louis back all the same, burying his face in his shoulder. Louis feels Zayn take a few deep breaths against his shoulder, trying to hold back tears. 

“Stop trying to look strong. It’s me. It’s us. We do this in front of each other. You’re okay.”

Louis both loves and hates the next few moments, because he feels hot tears against his shoulder. It means Zayn is finally letting out so much pent emotion, but seeing someone he’s so close to cry like this is hurting his heart. Zayn doesn’t deserve any of this, and Louis wishes he could just take all of his pain away. No one deserves to feel like this.

…

Louis has multiple infusions scheduled in the next few weeks, and someone is always with him throughout all of them. Whether it’s a heartfelt conversation with Zayn, cuddling with Harry, or joking around like he’s grown so accustomed to with Liam, he’s never alone. There’s only one problem.

Niall doesn’t sit with him.

Never.

Niall always slips out within the first few minutes, and he’s not back until the needle is being taken out of Louis’ skin and the IV is being disconnected, until Louis is so tired he falls asleep on the way home. He’s barely seen anything of Niall recently, and more than enraging, it’s concerning. The darkened bags under the blond’s eyes are worrying, and he’s looked paler than usual these past few weeks. Niall is naturally pale – considering he’s from Ireland, up north, but this is the type of pale that borders on unhealthy. Something is wrong, and Louis doesn’t know what.

Niall is his comic relief, his little Irish baby brother that he’s always felt so damn overprotective of. Niall is the sun on a rainy day, the light in a cluster of storm clouds, the glimmer of hope that’s always there. Niall is so valued and so important, the emptiness he feels when the blond hides himself is real. If he was able to, he’d get out of bed and follow the blond wherever he’s going, try and see what’s going on with him. Something is definitely wrong, and Louis needs to know what it is. He doesn’t care how he has to find out, but he needs to know what’s going on.

“Where’s Ni?” Louis poses the question to Liam, stopping him while he’s attempting to make a (really bad) joke.

Liam’s face changes – Louis can’t quite detect what changes, but something is different. Liam is hiding something, and he can’t quite figure out what it is. He’s always been able to gauge Liam’s emotions, but this is something unreadable and differing from what he’s always felt like. It’s foreign. Louis doesn’t know what to think. This has to mean bad news, and the prospect of that is very scary. 

“He’s with Zayn and Harry, Lou. They’re down in the cafeteria or something. They might’ve went for a drive, I dunno. But he’s okay. Don’t worry about him. He’s good. Just a little down recently, but he’s okay.” Liam sounds like he’s trying to reassure them both, and that only serves to escalate Louis’ worry. There is definitely something being kept from him. It’s not fair. 

“I have cancer, I’m not broken.” Louis glares at him. “Stop sugarcoating shit. Stop hiding shit from me. I’m not fragile. I’m not going to break if you give me bad news. Stop treating me like I am.”

Liam shakes his head. “I’m not treating you any differently than I normally would, Lou. Niall is fine, I promise. You have my word on it, and you know I don’t give people my word randomly. He’s fine.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live in the part of the US that's being slammed with Jonas right now, so I'm getting snowed in, quite literally. That possibly means another update this weekend, since I don't have that much homework and most likely won't have school on Monday. But that's only if I get some feedback on this chapter, comments would be awesome. :) Enjoy. :)

“You’re not fine, Niall.”

Niall stares dizzily at Harry, the combination of a hangover and lack of sleep making him just want to stick a knife in his heart. He feels like utter shit. The amount of alcohol he drank last night was terrifying, even for him. And the hangover is worse. He’s never really had an issue with beer, but drinking as much as he did almost lead to alcohol poisoning. He can see way Harry and Zayn are worried, but they don’t have to be. It was a slip up, a mistake. He’s fine.

“What are you trying to prove?” Zayn shoots him a withering glance. “You’ve always had a higher tolerance for beer, we get that. You can’t be destroying your liver like this because you want to prove a point. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Doing what? I’m not doing anything. We get drunk occasionally, and sometimes we drink too much. It happens. Hasn’t happened in a while, but it’s not out of the ordinary. You’re treating me like this is the first time.”

“Because you were so fuckin’ drunk last night, you almost had to get your stomach pumped!” Zayn raises his voice to a dangerously high level, and it sends a wave of pain coursing through Niall’s skull. He groans and lifts his hands to his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You can be pissed at me all you want, but _please_ , stop yelling.” He winces and rubs his temples, trying to get the headache to subside. It’s burning his skull and every sound, every light, every action, equals immediate pain. He can’t handle this for much longer. “It hurts so much.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Whose fault is that?”

“You’re one to talk,” Niall grumbles. “You’re smoking cigarettes like they’re candy, and destroying _your_ lungs. You wanna talk to me about bad habits, make sure you’re not a damn hypocrite first.”

“And Lou chewed me out for it,” Zayn replies, immediately, like he was prepared for this to come up. He may’ve been. He knows that what he’s been doing lately isn’t the best example. “And he called me an idiot and told me that I’m fucking stupid for giving myself cancer when I’m smoking more because he has it. And so I’m trying to quit. And you’re doing the same thing. So here’s your lecture. Stop fucking destroying your liver.”

Niall shrugs. “It’s my body, and I’ll destroy it if I want to.”

…

He never wanted to change this much.

When they got to be really famous, he had a long talk with Greg and he realized that he’d never want to be someone he didn’t recognize. He never wanted to be a person he didn’t recognize in the mirror, but that is his reality now. His reality involves beer, liquor, rum…any kind of alcohol, you name it, he’s drinking it. He’s trying to forget and he’s doing a good goddamn job.

Alcohol really does make him forget. It takes away the reality of situations, it makes it so that in his mind, he’s in his happy place. In his mind, Zayn hasn’t left and no one is hurting and Louis doesn’t have fucking _cancer_. In his happy place, everything is okay again. And he can only get to that aforementioned happy place with the help of beer. A sad reality, but the painful truth. He’s not ashamed. People broke him, and this is how he’s deciding to fix himself. They don’t get an opinion on that, when they were the ones who broke him in the first place. The reason.

He knows it wasn’t Louis’ fault for getting cancer – cancer is random and fucked up and it destroys lives. But it’s hard to walk into that room and see that IV that’s pumping dangerous chemicals into Louis’ body, to _hopefully_ get rid of his cancer. It may not even work. He doesn’t understand how Zayn and Liam and Harry can talk to Louis like it’s normal, like everything is fucking sunshine and roses. Nothing is like that. Nothing is okay anymore. How can they pretend it is?

The pack of stolen cigarettes feels heavy in his pocket. He swiped some of Zayn’s stash when they went to the older lad’s house so he could pick up some things. Zayn’s trying to quit anyway, he won’t miss a pack. And besides, he doesn’t have much to call Niall out on. He’d be a damn hypocrite for doing so. Zayn always says that smoking helps him feel less stressed, it clears his mind. Niall wants to test that. He really needs a destresser, and if this works as well as Zayn says it does, well, he’s found his escape. 

Niall sighs, slumping against the ledge he comes up to, closing his eyes. He doesn’t remember when everything stopped being likened to his happy place, but he’d really like to go back to that time. It’d be great to go back to when things were okay, when everyone wasn’t fighting, when Louis didn’t have a life-threatening disease, when Zayn was still in the band…it’d be great to go back to those times. They were the happiest of his life, when he didn’t have a care in the word. Goddamn, he was so naive. And it’s come back to bite him in the ass. He’s stupid for thinking that it wouldn’t.

He pulls a cigarette out of the pack and lights it, inserting it into his mouth and inhaling the smoke. Immediately, he starts coughing, and for a second, he wonders how Zayn could ever find something like this calming. It’s making his chest hurt and he keeps coughing. And it fucking _stinks_. How could something like this be calming?

He can’t judge it this quickly, when he’s barely tried it. So he continues, inhaling and exhaling the smoke, trying to realize why Zayn loves doing this so much. It’s kinda nice to have this alone time to think, while he’s still sober. He can barely process a thought when he’s hammered, so having this time to contemplate and allow himself a chance to actually think for a second…it’s nice. They don’t get a lot of that, being as popular as they are.

It’s honestly still hard to swallow. It’s like he’s still in denial. Louis Tomlinson has cancer. _Cancer_. The disease that kills. The thought makes him sick, his stomach keeps twisting and turning until he’s sure he’ll be sick. The thought of cancer and Louis doesn’t make any sense to him. He’s had enough time to digest it, but he still can’t do it. Harry, Liam, and Zayn have already accepted the reality and are busying themselves trying to keep Louis’ spirits up and help him through this. No one can say the same for Niall. He’s busy reeling in the news himself, trying to digest it in a way that isn’t utterly painful. Everything hurts.

Nothing is right. Zayn being gone isn’t right, Louis having cancer isn’t right, hell, him _smoking_ isn’t right. But everything else in his life is wrong, so this may as well be too. He doesn’t have the energy to make positive things happen, to pull out the positives, because, well, where are they? Louis has cancer and he can’t deal with it. Those are the facts. Louis could die. Another fact. All these things aren’t even opinions or fears, they’re stone-cold facts. And he can’t accept it.

It’s evident that the other boys are stronger than he is. That has always been the case. He’s always been the fragile one, the one that shatters at the slightest hint of bad news and can barely hold himself together in dire situations, let alone others. They’re definitely stronger than him, and it’s working in their favor now. 

Of course he feels guilty for not being with Louis while he’s getting chemo. But seeing Louis vomit or cry due to stomach pain is too much for him to take. Seeing Louis suffer the way he is, while being able to do jackshit about it, is too much for him to handle. He wants to do something, anything, to help, but he simply can’t. And it’s tearing him apart from the inside, ripping at his seams until he falls apart entirely. 

He wants to help in some way, but there’s nothing he can do. It’s not like joking around and treating Louis like normal is going to make the situation any more normal. What, do they want him to lie and pretend everything’s okay when it isn’t? He can’t do that. It doesn’t work that way. He’s always been a bad liar, anyway.

So nothing is okay and everything is fucked up and he may be breaking apart slowly, piece by piece, but none of that matters because Louis is going through utter hell right now, and that’s the priority. Niall is just too sensitive and emotional and not strong enough to handle it like everyone else can.

Yeah, that’s all it is. 

…

It gets worse, before it gets better.

The chemo finally starts to show its ugly face, its side effects washing over Louis like tidal waves on a beach. The weight loss is immediate. He was thin before, but now he look almost emaciated, and it’s not even him starving himself. He eats, but not enough to combat the incessant weight loss from the high strength drugs being infused twice a week. And he throws a lot of what he eats up anyway, because the drugs really fuck with his digestive system and the stomach cramps are agonizing. 

He’s tired easily, long walks are brutal. He usually doesn’t leave the house unless it’s absolutely essential, because rest is extremely important in this stage of the chemo. He needs to give his body time to adjust to the chemicals in the drugs. It’s mundane, but at least it’s helping to hopefully get rid of the cancer in his body. That’s what he has to remind himself to keep thinking.

The hair loss is something he’s deathly afraid of. His hair is one of his best features – many people have complimented him on it. And losing all of it…going bald…the prospect is so scary and he really doesn’t want to go through that. The emotional pain it puts on someone, to lose all their hair, to have to physically fall out…that’s something he’s definitely not ready for.

Cancer isn’t a cakewalk, no matter what kind of cancer it is. It doesn’t matter whether it’s the most curable or a terminal brain cancer, the treatment is always harsh and taxing. The side effects are even worse, but it’s better than having cancer. That’s the thing – anything would be better than having cancer. Even going bald and getting so thin he looks anorexic. Not having cancer is better than those combined.

He’s just in a state of confusion – it seems like that’s the perpetual state everyone is living in right now. The fans are so worried. His timeline is constantly flooded with fans worrying about what could be wrong, analyzing him in the previous few weeks before he got sick, trying to figure it out. No one has guessed cancer yet, so that’s good. It also proves that no one expected something like this to happen to him. No one in their right mind. Proves how damn random cancer is. It doesn’t choose victims based on their life.

Cancer destroys lives. Not only his, but the lives of people closest to him. He notices how feelings go out the window when one of the boys comes to talk to him. He notices how Liam’s smile is so fake it looks plastered on and held there with glue that’s not sticky anymore. He notices how Harry clings, clings onto him as hard as possible, like he’s about to break or die or leave them. And he notices how Zayn tries to avoid talking about his suicidal thoughts, believing Louis is more important. Most of all, he notices how Niall just avoids him in general, how the blond is never home, almost trying to escape interacting. It’s heartbreaking and he hates not being able to do anything about it.

Fuck all of it. That’s another thing he hates about cancer. It automatically makes him fragile and breakable, which he’s not. He wants desperately for them to treat him like the same Louis he’s always been, but that is so much harder than it seems. It’s almost like it’s physically impossible for them to do that, and he doesn’t understand it in the slightest.

Cancer wrecks.

Not only his life, but everyone around him. It’s like he’s trapped in this bubble of disease, and he can see all his friends falling apart right before his eyes, but the bubble is too enforced for him to break out, to try and help them in any way. He’s stuck with his own problems, he can’t help anyone else. It’s killing him. For a person that puts everyone else’s needs before his own, this is utter torture. He just wants to help his family and friends, but this fucking disease is making it impossible. It’s impossible for him to do anything with the way the circumstances have played out, and it fucking sucks.

…

He has never been high before, but there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?

He didn’t do something as bad as he could’ve – he just smoked some weed instead of a regular cigarette. It’s not like he snorted cocaine or injected heroin. It’s not as bad as it could be. Marijuana is harmful, but not nearly as harmful as cigarettes are. And it doesn’t contain as many disease causing chemicals, so in a way, it’s better. He knows no one else would agree with him on that, but fuck what they think. They’re dealing with this in a much better way than he is.

“Niall, what the fuck?”

He whirls around, immediately dropping his head when he gets a glimpse of the anger residing on Zayn’s face. He really isn’t in the mood to be screamed at for his life choices right now. 

“You’re _high_. What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!”

“So many things,” he slurs, turning back around to face the landscape in front of him. “So many fucking things. M’so fucked up. Not as much as Lou though, he has _cancer_. And it doesn’t make sense and I’m the shitty person that can’t accept it. So fuck me.”

Zayn seems to freeze there, his face softening. Although he doesn’t agree with what Niall is doing to himself, he does understand why the Irish lad is so upset. It makes sense now. It didn’t before, but he finally realizes why Niall’s been destroying his body, why Niall is so determined not to care about himself or what happens to him. It’s heartbreaking, the realization. Kinda rears the ugly truth, that not everyone is always happy and certain situations can really shatter a person and bring them completely crashing, their old personality no more. “Niall…you can’t do this to yourself. You don’t _need_ to do this to yourself.”

“Do what?” Niall rounds on Zayn angrily, turning and glowering at him. He’s definitely said the wrong thing, because Niall looks absolutely _pissed_. “I’m not “doing” anything to myself. I’m just dealing with my problems like normal people do. After all, you did it. So it can’t be that bad.”

“Why am I suddenly Jesus Christ?” Zayn shoots back. “I’m not God. I don’t always make the best choices. Smoking to deal with shit is one of them. You shouldn’t use me as a role model, Niall. Take it from someone like Liam or Harry. Not me.”

“They _don’t_ deal,” Niall points out. “I can see it and I’m high off my ass, so you must be stupid if you can’t. Liam and Harry aren’t dealing with this. Harry is practically attached to Louis’ hip, and Liam is trying to put on this fake ass bullshit façade that everything’s okay, when the list of things that _aren’t_ okay is so much longer than the list of things that are!”

“Okay, okay, calm down.” Zayn places a hand on his shoulder, warmth settling into his gaze. “Don’t work yourself up. I get what you’re saying, but Ni, this isn’t the answer. Weed and cigarettes and getting so drunk you almost black out? That’s not helping anything. Lou wouldn’t be proud of you for this.”

“What’s the big deal? He may die anyway.”

“He is fucking _fighting_ , Niall!” Zayn snaps, his gaze hardening. “That boy is going through hell with chemo and doing his best to fight for his damn life, and what are _you_ doing? Not making it any easier for him, that’s for sure! He’s worried about you, Niall! You’re causing him unnecessary worry by getting drunk and high like a fuckin’ idiot. So trust me, you’re not helping anyone by doing this. You’re hurting Louis. You’re hurting me, Harry, and Liam. But most of all, you’re hurting _yourself_. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Because I’m the fuck up that can’t accept that he has fuckin’ _cancer_! I can’t face him, I fuckin’ can’t. And maybe that makes me a bad friend, I’m okay with that. So just leave me the fuck alone and let me handle this in the only way I know how. I don’t need your pretentious ass trying to make me see logic and reason. I don’t care about any of it. So save your damn breath.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late, I've had a pretty busy week and I was too tired to edit the chapter last night. Enjoy.

“He’s a mess, guys. He’s _high_.”

Liam’s eyes widen to the point where they look like saucers. “I’ll go try and talk some sense into him.”

“Don’t bother.” Zayn holds out a hand and shakes his head. “I tried. He told me off. He doesn’t want to hear bull about how he shouldn’t do this to myself. I even said Lou wouldn’t be proud of him, and he gave me some crap about how Lou might die anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Fucking hell,” Harry curses loudly, tugging on his hair in frustration. “I never imagined this. Like, I couldn’t ever see Niall in this position. It never seemed like something to have to worry about because it always seemed so outlandish…”

“He’s not the sweet, innocent Nialler anymore, that’s for sure. He’s changed.” 

“What do we do now?” There’s no point in dwelling on what reality is right now, the priority is fixing it. They can’t handle Niall spiraling down out of control, while Louis is going through chemo and fighting for his life. It just isn’t possible. This needs to be stopped while it’s in the beginning phases, before it gets really bad. Niall can’t fall apart right now; they can’t afford to have him fall to pieces right in front of them. They need at least four out of the five of them to be okay, in terms of physical and mental health. It just won’t happen if this drug addiction spirals out of control, and they know that. That’s why it’s so important to try and fix this before it gets to an impossible level. Rehab cannot be an option in this. Niall can’t get to that point. 

“This might not be the most supported idea,” Zayn offers. “But I think that we should just leave him be. He knows his limits, and when he goes too far, he’ll realize what he’s been doing. That should set him straight. It worked for me. When that video of Lou and me on the bus leaked…that was my wake up call. Something serious happens, he’ll realize he’s fucking things up.”

“We shouldn’t let him get to that point, though,” Liam replies. “He’s suffering. This is obviously not a new idea of recreation to him, he’s doing it because he’s scared of what’s going to happen to Louis and he needs something constant in our tornado of a life. He’s not doing it for fun. We shouldn’t let him destroy himself completely. He doesn’t need to hit rock bottom to realize things have gone to shit.”

“It’d be a good wake up call, a way for him to realize what’s going on.” Zayn sighs. “See, the thing is, we can try and help him all we want, until we’re completely worn out of resources, but the only way he’ll get better is if he _wants_ to. Like, I don’t know whether you guys know about him, but Gerard Way, from My Chem? He hit rock bottom with drugs and then realized he didn’t want to live that way anymore, so he picked himself up and got clean and sober in 17 days, by himself. The only way he could do it was because he _wanted_ to. Niall needs to want to get better, and right now, he doesn’t.”

“But is it really fair to leave him to suffer? Drug addiction isn’t something small, and it’s not hard to get addicted quick. We know between, shouldn’t we be doing something to help him?”

“It may not be fair for us to do this to him. But it’s the only way for this to work. He needs to see things for himself, and we can’t make him see anything.”

“Maybe Louis can…”

“What do you mean?”

Harry glances up. “I mean, what if we trapped Niall so he didn’t have a choice but to talk to Lou? Lou can talk sense into anyone; it’d be easy for him to talk sense into Niall. We just need to do it at the right time, so it happens. Plus, Niall is the closest to Louis, and he’ll listen to him. We’ve been telling him that Lou is gonna be okay for so long now, but if Lou tells him himself, the words have more power. Louis’ words hold more power than ours do, at this point.”

Zayn shrugs. “It’s worth a shot. I mean, allowing him to hit rock bottom is a last resort. If we can get him out of this without making that happen, it’s even better.”

“So tomorrow, the three of us will go out somewhere, and force Niall to be around to look after Louis. And if we let Lou in on this he can play it up to make it seem like he’ll really need Niall around.”

“This might just work…”

“It better work,” Liam mutters, heaving a heavy sigh. “It’s not gonna be easy, but we need to do it, or we’re in danger of losing the Niall we’ve always known forever. Drugs can really change a person; no one is the same after doing that shit. We need to nip this in the bud, before it turns into something out of control that we can’t handle on our own.”

…

“Boys, while I love how caring you’re being with the whole ‘let’s take care of Louis to the best of our ability’ thing, you can’t lie to me about this shit…”

Louis sighs and surveys the room, glancing at Liam, Harry, and Niall in turn. “You can’t hide things like this, it’s not fair. I’m not an invalid because I have cancer. Niall is suffering, and his suffering is _valid_.”

“He’s getting high and drunk for no damn reason,” Zayn repeats the sentence, as if saying it again will finally make the reality of it sink into Louis’ head.

“You just told me he’s doing it because he can’t accept that I have cancer. That’s not “no reason”. That’s a damn _serious_ reason.”

“We don’t know what to do, Lou. He won’t listen to any of us when we try and talk sense into him, but maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“Yes, he’ll listen to me because I have some damn common sense and I’m not gonna berate him for hurting.”

“What the hell does _that_ mean?” Louis has to hold back a groan. He doesn’t get how they don’t understand the reality of the situation. It’s so simple, yet they don’t get it, and that’s frustrating. Most of the world seems to think that people who have it the worst are the only ones allowed to be upset, people who have it better than them aren’t allowed to feel sorry for themselves. It “could be worse”, so they have no reason to be upset, and the principle itself is fucking stupid. It’s selfish, greedy, and stupid. Anyone is allowed to hurt over something, anyone is allowed to be upset, and the situation’s severity shouldn’t have a say in that. 

Louis sighs. “It means that you can’t invalidate his problems because I have cancer. Zayn, that would be the same as me saying you have no right to feel the way you do about life, because I have cancer and my life might end in a way that’s out of my control. Yeah, I have cancer and I might die and it’s fucking serious, but this is _Niall_ we’re talking about. Niall, who we’ve never known to do something like this. He’s hurting enough for him to turn to weed and cigarettes, and getting angry at him for it will only make him fall further into the destructive habits.”

“I just don’t get it…why would he do something like that to himself? It’s hard for _anyi_ of us to accept that you have cancer, but we’re not going out and getting drunk and high off our asses.”

“Not everyone deals with shit in the best way, Li.” Louis looks down at his lap. “I personally deal with shit with anger and trying to pretend that everything’s okay. Zayn deals with it by smoking. You deal with it by pretending everything is okay and staying positive, even when there’s nothing positive about the situation. And Harry, you bend backward to do anything you can to help, while pushing your feelings aside. We all do different things. This is just Niall’s way of dealing.”

“Doesn’t make much sense.”

“You smoking and contributing to the possibly of you getting lung cancer when you’re smoking because I have cancer doesn’t make much sense either,” Louis snaps. “But I’m not knocking you for it. Before you go off judging Niall on every level, think about shit from his perspective. I promise the view is a lot dimmer that way.”

Zayn falls silent, and Louis slumps back against his pillows. This is a lot to take in, and he doesn’t have the time to mull over it, to digest it right now. All that he needs to focus on is a solution “How bad is he?”

“He’s getting so drunk every night, and I think the getting high is to ward off the shitty hangovers he has. He just doesn’t care, about his body, about his life, about anything. Management is throwing a fucking fit about it. And he refuses to answer any of their messages, so there’s that as well. The hiatus is the only reason they’re not taking even more drastic measures.”

Louis inhales, closing his eyes and letting the information sink in. He didn’t think it’d be this bad. No one thought Niall would get to this point, no one expected it. That’s why it’s so horrible. “Alright, tomorrow, you three are going to get the actual hell out, and you’re not going to come back until I tell you you can. I’ll see what I can do in regards to talking to him, but from what you’ve told me, I don’t think my words are gonna do much.”

…

“Ni?”

Niall lifts his head and glances in the direction of Louis’ room, or rather, the one he’s chosen to share with Harry. The ball of anxiety in his chest starts to grow when he hears Louis’ voice – he hasn’t spoken to him in a while, too much of a coward to strike up a damn conversation with his best friend. It’s pathetic, frighteningly so. Less than three months ago, Louis was the only person he wanted to talk to, and now he can’t even face him. It’s a wonder, what time can do. 

“Can you come in here?”

Niall can’t say no to Louis. He can ignore the older lad, he can pretend he doesn’t exist, he can completely and blatantly pay no attention to him, but denying him anything is something Niall simply can’t do. So he trudges into the room, keeping his gaze on the ground. Louis doesn’t look good – he knows that if he gets a load of how broken the sick lad really looks, he’ll start crying. That can’t happen.

“No, come _here_.” Louis stresses the last word, motioning him closer. “I’m not contagious. You can’t catch the cancer.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you, Niall.” Louis reaches for his hand, and Niall flinches. Getting too close allows his feelings to break through the invisible barrier he’s placed upon them. Feelings cannot factor into this situation. If Louis dies, it’ll hurt so much worse if he’s closer to him. He’s distancing himself for a reason. 

“Niall…”

“No,” Niall whispers. “I can’t. Please, I just can’t.”

“Can’t what, mate? Talk to me. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“You’re gonna die, no, I fucking can’t, no.”

His heart is racing so fast that dizziness is washing over him in waves. Nothing feels right. It feels like his chest is starting to close, like what happens when he has an asthma attack or gets freaked out when he’s trapped in a small space for too long. But it never happens otherwise, so what the fuck is this?

“Shit Niall, come on, _breathe_.” Hands grab his shoulders, steadying him when he starts to sway. He squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the world to stop spinning, waits for his breathing to calm down, even though he doesn’t know why his breathing is fucked up in the first place.

“There you go.” He finally opens his eyes, and the exhaustion that seems to crash into him like a train is exhausting. It feels like he’s just run a marathon. Every ounce of his body is tired.

“What was that…?”

“Panic attack.” Louis smiles weakly at him. “I get them quite frequently. They fucking suck, yeah?”

Niall nods numbly, still shaking from the force of it. He feels so out of control, like he’s in charge of nothing that’s happening right now. It’s such a scary feeling. 

“I was going to talk to you about some shit, but I really don’t think you’re up for it right now. Do you just want to sleep here with me?” Louis offers, looking hopeful. “We have a lot to talk about, Ni, but not now. You’re exhausted and not in any type of state to have this conversation.”

“I’ll go to my room…” His heart starts to race again, and the shaking still hasn’t died down – in fact, it’s only getting worse. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, or why this is happening, but he just wants it to stop. Everything hurts, nothing is right at the moment. He wants it all to stop. Like their lyric in Story of My Life, time is frozen? He wishes that were his reality. 

“You can stay here.” Louis sighs, rubbing his back gently. “And calm down, everything’s okay. No one is going to yell at you anymore. That’s not even what I wanted to talk about. I know you’ve gotten shit from the other boys and they’re dicks for being so insensitive. I’m not mad at you. Everything’s okay, I promise. Just focus on breathing.”

“And lie back, everything is okay.” Louis’ voice is utterly soothing and he slowly manages to coax Niall to lie back against the mattress. He wraps his own body around Niall’s and brings him close. Nothing is okay but right now, in this moment, Niall is finally starting to feel a lot safer than he’s felt in a long time.

…

Curling around Niall opens Louis’ eyes to the real problem here. The poor boy is shivering, even though it isn’t cold. He’s lost weight, which is obvious, and he smells like cigarette smoke and marijuana. Zayn wasn’t kidding when he said he caught Niall smoking weed, although Louis really wanted to believe that he was. He knows now that it was the truth, and it only serves to shatter his heart even more. This shouldn’t be happening, especially not to Niall, of all people.

Admittedly, he hasn’t really slept much during the night. He’s been watching over Niall and trying to coax the poor boy into a restful sleep. It doesn’t work. Niall tosses and turns, occasionally whimpering in his sleep. It takes a while, but eventually, he snuggles against Louis and calms down. It’s one relief out of the many problems amidst them. He just wishes that he could fix Niall with one swipe of a hand, but it really isn’t that easy. It’s really hard to quit smoking or drugs, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve started. Nicotine and marijuana are very addictive. That’s probably why the drug problem in this world is so fucking high, and why Zayn has such an issue quitting.

He just wants to know what pushed Niall off the edge, what was the one thing that pushed him to start something like this. He knows that Niall is nothing like the person pressed against him right now, but he’s undergone such a change in the past few weeks. It’s drastic, seemingly permanent, and very scary. They’ve never known Niall to act like this, so it’s definitely alarming. And Niall’s refusal to talk to any of them doesn’t make matters any better. The situation is just really shitty right now, and Louis doesn’t know what to do.

It’s hard to know what to do when you’re basically bed bound, not because you can’t walk, because he can walk fine, but because he’s so exhausted and lacking energy. Chemo isn’t something that will leave no side effects, and this is honestly the reason Louis never wanted to do it in the first place. The things it does to his body are just…agonizing. And most of it takes a long time to reverse, so although the effects are reversible, it’s not like stopping chemo will bring him back to the person he used to be. 

Cancer has altered a lot about him, but it’s also made his appreciation for life skyrocket. He might die tomorrow, like, actually might go. The fact, although alarming, plays a role in his newfound positivity and open-mindedness toward life. He only has one chance, and he may have just shortened it by getting cancer, but making the most of it is the only option he has anymore. He can’t just ignore the cancer and go on living the way he is. Life doesn’t work that way. He’d be dead in seconds.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry this is late, I've been extremely busy with school work. I'm in the second semester of my junior year of high school, so this are going to be crazy for a while. If updates aren't on time every week, I apologize in advance. This chapter is kinda short, but the next one should make up for it. Enjoy.

It comes as a shock, at first.

He’s known it’s coming for so long, but he never actually realized how close they were to this moment. He knew that at some point, it’d happen, but not this soon. It feels way too soon, he hasn’t even been in treatment that long – it’s way too fucking soon for this. Two chemo sessions a week for the past three and a half weeks, seven sessions, and now, this moment has finally dawned upon them.

His hair is falling out. 

Running his hands through it brings so many strands out, it’s like he’s literally pulling his hair out. It’s fucking awful. Every time he runs a hand through his hair, it feels like a quarter of the hair he has left comes out with his hand. It’s so fucked up. It’s not falling out all at the same time, it comes out in chunks and pieces, slowly, the last thing he had going for him is fading away.

This is when reality finally starts to hit – he has _cancer_. He has fucking _cancer_ , and he’s one of those people, whose hair is falling out, who can barely walk to the mailbox without getting winded, who looks like an utter skeleton. He is one of those people. 

“Lou, it’ll grow back, it’s just-”

“Stop.” He hears himself say the word, but can’t register actually saying it. Nothing feels real. It’s like he’s floating in some fantasy world, while people live their lives around him. It doesn’t feel real.

“Lou…”

“Stop talking.” His voice breaks and he hates that it makes it look like he’s crying. He’s not crying. And honestly, who cries over _hair_? It’s fucking hair, it’s not permanent hair loss, it’ll grow back. There’s no reason to be upset over something as miniscule and trivial, but a sob is choking up his throat and he feels like he can’t breathe.

“Do you want us to leave you alone?”

“I want my mum, someone call my mum.” He barely thinks about the want before he expresses it, and although he’s ashamed for needing his mummy by his side, every step of the way, he just needs comfort right now. He needs an anchor, he needs someone to bring him back to Earth, because he’s floating, his head is spinning, nothing is right. He needs his mum.

A phone is pressed into his hands a few moments later, and the boys make their way out. He breathes out a sigh of relief, not wanting to completely break down to his mother in front of them. He still has some shreds of dignity, but not most.

“Louis, sweetheart?”

“Mummy,” he practically wails into the phone, sounding absolutely pathetic, like a stupid child, not that it matters to him. “My hair is falling out, I’m losing my hair.”

She sighs. “Oh, baby…”

“It’s all falling out, I can’t even run my hands through my hair without some of it coming out!”

“Shh, sweetheart, calm. You need to be calm.” She coaxes him through multiple breathing techniques, and he really appreciates them when he doesn’t go into a panic attack in the next few moments. Her voice is soothing, his anxiety is slowly beginning to dissipate in synchronization with it.

“Are you alright now?”

He nods for a moment, then realizes she can’t hear him, and voices it. “I don’t know why I’m getting so upset over this…it’s just hair.”

“You’ve had hair for 23 years, love. And it’s all falling out at a rate you can’t control for reasons you can’t control. This is when the diagnosis finally becomes real, when the side effects finally point to the fact that you have cancer. And it’s really hard to accept, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want this to be real…”

“I know you don’t, sunshine. But reality is painful and I’m so sorry that you have to go through this. You’ll get through it, though. You always have. Every obstacle, every challenge you’ve faced, you’ve gotten through. You thought you wouldn’t get through the first chemo session, and now you have seven under your belt. You can do this, baby. I know you can.”

“I don’t want to…”

“You do, Louis. You do want to fight. You know that, in your mind and in your heart. It may seem like everything is utterly painful and unbearable right now, but underneath all of that, the will to fight is there. You wouldn’t put yourself through all of this just to make me happy. There is a part of you that wants to fight, sweetheart.”

Louis sighs. “I don’t know what I want anymore. Nothing is in my control. The boys are treating me like I’m made of glass and am about to break. Something’s wrong with Niall and he won’t let us help him. And the other boys are all breaking inside, but they’re refusing to say anything because their feelings aren’t as important as mine. Because I have cancer. How stupid is that?”

“I can see where they’re coming from, Lou.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, you’ve always been the type of person that puts yourself after everyone else. You do everything for everyone else, and you’re last. And although that’s a good thing – you are the extremely selfless boy I’ve always known – this is a time where you need to be put first. You have cancer, love. It’s not minor. No matter how curable the disease is. This is the time where you need to put yourself before anyone else.”

“I’m not going to get worse if the boys treat me normal.”

“I know that, and you know that, but they don’t realize it. They think that smothering you with all the love that they can is going to lift your spirits and help you get better, and it’s a sweet thought. But you need to be honest with them, baby. You can’t expect them to do something if you don’t tell them what that thing is. They’re not mind readers. They don’t know unless you tell them.”

“I’ve said I don’t want to be treated like I’m fragile. But they don’t listen!”

“Because they’re afraid that negativity will bring you down, and you gave them a real scare when you said you didn’t want to fight. They think that showing the negative side of things around you is going to bring you back to that. You really gave them a scare, Lou, you can’t deny that. They don’t know how to process this, how to go on from here. They’re going in blind, just as you are.”

“I know…I just don’t know how to make it better. What can I do? Nothing makes sense anymore. Everything’s falling apart, mum…”

She sighs again, much more subdued this time. “Louis, sweetheart, I can’t tell you what to do in this situation. I can give you all the advice I know how to give, but I can’t tell you what to do. That’s for you to figure out. You need to do what is right in your heart, that’s the only way to fix this.”

“But I’m bed bound! I can’t do anything from here!”

“Did the doctor tell you that you need to be bed ridden?”

Louis thinks back, trying to remember. “He said that for only a few hours after chemo sessions. But the boys are overprotective and think that more bed rest means I’ll get better faster, which is quite damn ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not. They have a point. But if the doctor says you don’t need to be bedridden, then you’re fine to move around. You need to prove to them that you won’t break, that you won’t shatter, if they treat you as they always have. You can’t expect them to know how to deal with this. It’s not a learned skill. You have to show them. They’re strangers to this and they’re scared. They have a right to be. It’s up to you, to make them see you for who you are, not a frail cancer patient that can barely walk to the loo on his own. That’s not what you are. You know that, and I know that, but they can’t see you as anything else unless you make it evident to them that you’re stronger than they think you are.”

“I hate when you’re right,” he grumbles. “Is it a mum thing or something?”

He can practically hear her smirk. “Maybe. But aside that, sweetheart, you need to hang in there. And this doesn’t mean you can’t be there for your boys. Make them understand. Be there for them as you were before any of this happened. Show them what the reality of the situation is. They won’t get it unless you make them.”

…

The beanies have become customary. He never goes without one. 

He doesn’t want to show off his bald head to the world. He’s already ashamed enough. The beanies help preserve his dignity and hide what he absolutely despises about himself. It’d just be easier if his hair didn’t fall out in the first place. Stupid fucking chemo. Stupid fucking cancer. Why does it have to cause hair loss, anyway? Fucking stupid side effect. 

Waiting for all the boys to show up, hell, finding all the boys and asking them to come talk for a while is like trying to herd sheep. It doesn’t work too well. The boys are all over the place – Zayn is out smoking, Harry’s cooking, Liam’s napping, and no one fucking knows where Niall is, which has become common nowadays.

This whole babying thing needs to stop. He can’t take anymore of it, or he’ll go fucking mad. There’s only so much smothering he can take, at this point. And this is miles over that line. This is impossible to bear. He’s never been this smothered in his life, the only person who has compared is his mum, and she’s allowed because she’s his _mum_. These idiots, however, are not. They need to realize that he’s not going to break if they don’t handle him the way they’d handle a china doll. He’s not that fragile.

This entire thing has been a whirlwind. It’s like he hasn’t had the chance to sit down and actually _breathe_ , none of them have had that opportunity. That’s what’s so hard about all of it. It’s hard to digest, because the moment he got his diagnosis, the following events occurred in such a tornado. He could barely tell one from the next, and it was so hard to find the time to digest the fact that he has _cancer_. And now, when he’s finally able to stomach it, it’s really hard to imagine is real. It still doesn’t feel real.

Cancer is something different from anything else – you really don’t know how to feel about it until it happens to you. You don’t know what to say, what to do, how to react, when it happens to you, because you never imagined it would. Cancer isn’t foreign – everyone knows about it, and everyone is aware of the severity. No one expects it to ever happen to them, and when it does, it’s an utter shock and it starts to destroy. Cancer itself isn’t as bad as the reactions and tolls it takes on everyone else. That’s the real heartbreak of the entire thing.

Louis just wishes the boys weren’t so attached to him, maybe that would allow them to take it a bit easier. It wouldn’t hurt as much, that’s for sure. They’re all so wrecked by the news, and they need the opportunity to break and collapse over it. They’re not supposed to shove it down for a prolonged period and expect to be okay. It doesn’t work that way. At one point, everyone will explode. Water boils over at a certain point. The longer you hold things in, the bigger the resultant explosion will be.

And Louis isn’t sure if he’s ready for the oncoming one.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I didn't post last week, and I'm sorry. I've just been really busy with studying for SATs and looking at colleges, since I have to start applying next year. To make it up to you, this chapter is longer than normal. I hope you enjoy. :) Also - trigger warnings for suicidal thoughts and hints of depression, if that bothers any of you.

This intervention bullshit is _really_ getting old.

Niall’s counted at least three in the time that Louis has been diagnosed and he’s been dealing with it in the only way he knows how. Three separate times that the boys have cornered him and told him that he needs to stop drinking and smoking and destroying his body. It’s barely been a month since Louis was diagnosed – that’s a little much. Especially since they’re all stressed to the max and have little to no down time in the midst of caring for Louis and trying to keep their lives hidden from the public. They barely have time to breathe, yet they’ve managed to confront him about destructive habits on three separate instances.

It’s bullshit. He doesn’t pay any attention to any of it because of that. The boys are damn hypocrites if they think they’re allowed to dictate what he can and can’t do with his body. Yeah, they’re his brothers, and yeah, they care about him, but they’re not in his head and they will never understand the shit he’s going through. Louis has it the worst and that’s obvious, but Niall has it pretty shitty too – the road to destruction is worn and the journey is tiring. He doesn’t know if he’ll make it. 

It’s rather silly, isn’t it? Destroying yourself after getting the worst news of your life. It’s not even the worst news of _his_ life, it’s the worst news of Louis’. And Niall’s still having such a hard time. He resents himself for dealing with it in the way he is – he knows he’s stressing Liam, Harry, and Zayn out, and he doesn’t want to be more of a burden for them.

It’s just hard. Knowing his best friend is sick and he can’t do anything about it. Granted, drinking and smoking and killing himself isn’t the solution, but he can’t help Louis. There is nothing he can do. Louis’ fate isn’t up to him. So why should he bother trying to contribute anything? Nothing he does will help, so why bother? He doesn’t get why the other boys are so obsessed with keeping Louis’ spirits up and shit. It’s not like that will get rid of his cancer. It’s not like that will magically cure him. Why waste the energy?

He exhales, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and holding it between his fingers. This is so fucked up.

“Rough day?”

The voice almost makes him drop the cigarette. He turns around so fast he’s surprised it doesn’t fall from his grip.

Louis smiles sheepishly. “Guess my sneaking skills are just as honed as they used to be.”

“You should be in bed…”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I have cancer. I’m not without the use of my legs. And I’m definitely not an invalid.”

“I’m not in the mood to justify my life decisions to you, Louis.” He turns back around and stares at the opening landscape below him. The nature is calming – it does wonders to soothe his racing heart and calm the nerves. The ball of anxiety in his chest finally starts to shrink, and he can finally breathe easier. 

“You don’t have to.” Louis comes up to stand beside him, and Niall winces. He smells like a hospital, almost. The smell isn’t repugnant, but it’s there. He’s spent long enough between those white walls, the smell has to have rubbed off. “You do remember the video of me and Zayn that leaked, don’t you? I’m not here to preach bullshit to you.”

“So why are you here? You’re not gonna light up with me.”

“I’m not, you’re right. That could really fuck up my lungs. In fact-” Louis reaches over and grabs the cigarette, tossing it off the balcony. “Secondhand smoke will too.”

“Fuck you,” Niall grumbles. “It’s not my fault you decided to come out here. That’s the last cigarette I had, the pack I-”

“The pack you stole from Zayn?” Louis glances at him, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t hide it, Niall. He knows, I know, we all know. He’d remember smoking an entire extra pack of cigarettes.”

“Why are you here?”

“I want to know why you’re doing this to yourself.” Louis grips the ledge of the balcony with both hands, tilting his body forward, almost like he’s about to throw himself off. He won’t, the ledge is too high for him to be able to, but it’s still alarming.

“It’s not something I need to tell the damn world,” Niall mutters. “You’re not my parents, I don’t need to justify my life decisions to you.”

“You’re right, we’re not your parents,” Louis replies. “But I’m sure they’d be interested to know that their son is destroying both his lungs and liver simultaneously. Riveting news, eh?”

“Don’t say that like you haven’t done a number on your own.”

“Yeah, alright, I drink. Or I used to, rather. But never enough to almost black out or give myself alcohol poisoning. I drink when I go out with you guys. I don’t drink to get drunk. You’re drinking because you want to be drunk. Or binge drinking, as they call it. And that, is what destroys your liver a lot quicker than recreational drinking.”

“What, did you swallow an encyclopedia before you came out here? I’m not dumb, I know that shit.”

“Alright, if you know that, then why are you doing it anyway? If you’re as knowledgeable as you claim to be, you must know that this is not something you can reverse later, and that you’re on the road to lung cancer and liver failure if you keep going the way you’re going.”

“Because maybe I don’t fuckin’ care,” Niall growls back. “Maybe, because I don’t fuckin’ care what happens to me. If this kills me, great. It’s what I want.”

Louis recoils, as if the force of his words have punched him. He stares at Niall with wide eyes and reaches out, to which the blond lad flinches away. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me. I’m done talking. I want to be left alone. I’m so fuckin’ sick of you assholes trying to preach some higher up bullshit to me about what I can and can’t do with my body. These are my choices, not yours, mine. And you don’t have to agree with them. But you do need to accept them, because they’re not gonna change based on your shitty ass logic.”

…

The next chemo session is one Louis is almost _grateful_ for. 

These sessions are times when he’s completely confined and given hours to think about everything. He could watch a movie or sleep or listen to music, but thinking time is really important. It’s forced thinking time, an escape he so greatly desires. It’s perfect. Something he’s always wanted, but never had the opportunity to have.

Niall’s words are still resonating in his head. It’s bad enough that Zayn has considered killing himself, and now Niall is following. It’s not like he’s blaming the blond for it – suicidal thoughts are not something to take lightly or something to joke about. Niall was dead serious when he was talking about death, and Louis knows that. It’s just the why that he doesn’t understand. Was Niall suicidal before, before all of this cancer shit? Or did these thoughts just start? When did all of this start happening, and why didn’t he notice?

It’s different with Niall. Zayn’s were something he took easier because he hasn’t had contact with him for a good two months. He’s been with Niall every single day, laughing and joking with him as if nothing’s wrong. Has the blond really been battling these thoughts and putting on a fake smile every day? If he has, there’s something seriously wrong with Louis’ perception lately. 

He doesn’t know how to go about this. Niall is _Niall_. The happy, fun-loving, bright, bubbly one. He doesn’t get sad, not very often. Unless it’s when no one’s looking, when he’s alone and able to cry where no one can hear him. Niall has never been sad for a long period of time. They’ve all had their fair share of bitchy moments, of moments where they’ve just been utterly pissed off and needed to be alone, except Niall. Niall has always been happy, always been everyone’s source of comic relief, and to have that light finally start to go out…that’s a hard pill to swallow. Louis doesn’t know if he can recover from something like this. It’s not just addiction, it’s the thought process that accompanies. It’s consuming and wrecking and his fear was that Niall would somehow get caught up in it, and now the fear is reality.

He hates that his cancer was enough to send the blond over the edge. There’s a cliff, and Niall has definitely fallen off. He’s struggling, gasping for air, trying to reach for help, but no one sees it. And because of that, he’s put up these walls, he’s become angrier and refuses to let anyone help him. He doesn’t want to get hurt, that’s why he’s so hesitant to let people in. And it really fucking sucks.

At this point, Louis is at a loss. How does he help Niall? How does he try and bring back the light that used to shine in his eyes, the childish, fun loving Irishman he’s always been? It’s so hard to try and bring that back when any trace of his old personality has seemed to have been stripped away like a cold claw yanking away a life. Niall’s old self has vanished inside of him, hidden and scared to come out. They need to draw it out, but how? How do you bring out a light the person is so determined to keep dimmed? 

It’s not going to be easy, and Louis knows that. If this was easy, there wouldn’t be so many drug addicts and alcoholics on the streets everywhere. If this was easy, the world would be a perfect world, and they definitely don’t live in a perfect world. It’s a cruel world, a sickening world that devastates and breaks hearts of so many. It’s a world he’s almost ashamed to live in, because of what it’s become. And how did they let it get this far? 

They’re the influential people. The ones with enough money in their pockets to make a difference. It’s hard to make a difference when you don’t have the funds to get the word out, but that isn’t a problem for them. And Louis needs to use the availabilities he has to try and help Niall the best he can. That’s the only way any of them are going to survive this. They can’t do this in just a foursome – the four needs to be a five. No matter how they go about it, Niall needs to be with them. They need him. They’re unable to function without all of them together.

Sure, it’s easy to pretend it’s okay when they gave Zayn’s parts out and made up for him during songs, but his presence is something that’ll never be forgotten. His presence, the part he contributed, the emotional and mental part. He will never be replaced – there is no one in the world that can do his job better than he can. The same principle applies to Niall, no one can do what he does better than him. It’s just unable to be done.

Louis just needs to figure out what to do. Obviously, interventions and trying to talk to Niall aren’t effective. However, he needs to break the walls Niall is putting up, and that’s harder than it sounds. There’s nothing easy about it. Niall’s walls are fortified, and he has backup in case he gets hurt again. He’s trying to protect himself, and although Louis respects that, it’s very difficult when he’s trying to help him. Niall just needs to let himself be helped, and that too, is easier said than done.

…

“You’re telling Niall not to smoke or drink or anything, but here you are, smoking. You can’t be that much of a hypocrite, Z.”

Zayn sighs, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and patting the empty space next to him for the brown-haired lad to sit. Liam sits stiffly next to Zayn, trying not to breathe in too much of the smoke, but wanting to be close to him at the same time. He can’t choose between the two.

It seems like Zayn is taking a good few moments to compose his thoughts, before he finally speaks. “I’ve never been good with handling stress, Liam. And it’s one of the biggest faults I have. I’m not good in high pressure situations, stress is something that scares the shit out of me. I’ve always wondered how you manage them with so much ease.”

Liam chuckles bitterly. “You’d be surprised.”

“Even if you’re not sure what the hell is going on, on the outside you exude confidence. You tell us everything’s gonna be alright. And nine times out of then, it is. I’m not like that. I need to escape, to get away when things get to be too much and my thoughts are building up so much to the point where I can’t even hear myself think. I need a way out. And smoking is that for me. It sounds weird to you, because you haven’t done it, but nicotine is addicting. It helps so much, even though it’s horrible for me. And I’m trying to quit, believe me, I am. It’s just hard.”

Liam shrugs. “I’m not gonna lie and say that I’ve never considered something like this, because I have. The thought of having a vice like this is kinda enticing. But at the same time…you’re killing yourself, Z. Don’t you realize that?”

“I’m well aware, actually,” Zayn replies. “And there’s a part of me that honestly doesn’t care. A part of me that would be okay with dying.”

The words seem to freeze time – it’s like Zayn has just managed to cause a break in it. Liam stares at him for what feels like hours, but actually is only a couple moments, until Zayn brings him out of his trance with a humorless laugh.

“Shouldn’t have said that, should I?”

“N-No, you shouldn’t have to keep your feelings hidden. Even though they’re an utter shock…”

Zayn smiles. “I know that. I know that’s so fucking shocking, Louis reacted exactly the way you did. Shocked, upset, guilty, blaming himself? Sound familiar? Stupid though, it’s none of your faults. I’m the one who decided to leave the band, and that’s most of the reason this is happening to me. So it’s my fault, not yours.”

“Zayn…talk to me, please…” Like Harry and Louis, Liam and Zayn have always had that close relationship, that connection unable to be severed. They’re not nearly as close as Harry and Louis – those two are a different story entirely – but Liam would like to think Zayn feels closest to him out of everyone in the band. 

“I thought leaving the band would help my depression and thoughts of suicide. I haven’t been happy in a long time, Liam. And I thought getting out of the spotlight, rejecting the fame I used to crave…I thought that would help. I thought it’d make things easier. Having my own space, not being controlled by Modest like a puppet…I thought it’d get better.”

“But it didn’t.”

Zayn nods. “It got worse. So much worse. I was such an idiot to think otherwise, to be honest. I was an idiot to think that losing my boys would render me okay. For the first few days, not waking up and having to see you four or get ready for a show or go record…it was a hard change to get used to. I wasn’t sure how to live without you guys. It was such a hard change for me to go through.”

Zayn closes his eyes and tilts his head back, like the force of telling this story is making taking a real toll on him. It probably is. Liam can’t imagine how hard something like this is. To tell someone you’re really close to that you’ve had suicidal thoughts…that must be one of the hardest things in the world. Liam sighs, reaching over and rubbing his shoulder in soft circles, hoping that’ll bring some kind of comfort to him. 

“I realized that with you four out of my life, with the band out of my life, there wasn’t much I had left. And of course, the backlash from the fans didn’t make matters any better. I wasn’t sure what to do. There was no one I could go to that wouldn’t be downright pissed at me. That’s the main reason I became close with Naughty Boy. He was one of the only people who didn’t hate me for what I did, and I needed a person like that in my life.”

“What does all this mean, Z?”

“It means…I’m thinking of rejoining the band, Liam.” Zayn glances immediately at the other lad’s face, gauging his reaction. “I’m thinking of coming back, because I need it. I need to feel like I have people who understand me, like I’m not alone with these shitty thoughts about the life I live. I need to not be alone sometimes, to not be just by myself with my thoughts to wreck havoc. It gets so exhausting, after a while…”

“But…you left because the spotlight became too much, because you couldn’t deal with all the paps and the constant mobbing and always being in the public eye without any speck of privacy. That isn’t going to go away when you come back. If anything, it’ll get worse, because everyone will be all over you for your decision to come back not even three months after you’ve left.”

“I can take that,” Zayn replies softly. “At least, I’m pretty sure that I can. I can take that burden, because what I’m getting out of it is so much better. The receiving end of it is so much more worth it, so I think it’ll be enough of a price to pay.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it means not sitting in my house and wondering what’d happen if I jumped off the roof, I’d do anything, Liam. I’m so tired of feeling like this.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for once, I'm actually posting this on a Friday. The chapter is really short, and I'm sorry about that, but I had to cut if off where I did. Next chapter opens up with a long Narry scene, and I'll try to post it this weekend. Enjoy. :)

The sickness starts, and its cycles are vicious and unrelenting.

Louis hasn’t gotten a break in weeks. 

As days pass, he gets sicker and sicker, reduced to vomiting most of what’s in his stomach and being unable to sleep in the night due to pain in his abdomen. He’s always coughing, and there always seems to be a weight on his chest, like an elephant is using his body as a couch. It’s so agonizing. 

The pale, sickly, fragility of cancer is now kicking in, and he absolutely hates it. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything. All he can do is sleep and hope that he doesn’t end up dying in the slumber. The doctors have told him that’s possible, and it’s a thought that doesn’t cease to terrify him. The idea of his death upon him at any time is too real and hurts too much, and he just doesn’t know how to handle it.

It’s a constant struggle between throwing his guts up, trying to keep food down, trying not to hack up a lung, and begging for more of his life to be spent _living_ , rather than in bed, sleeping. But all his efforts are futile. Living his life from his bed is the best he can do at this point, albeit a very poor best, but the best he can push himself to do. 

…

“Lou, Lou, breathe. Breathe through it, that’s the only way they’ll stop. Breathe, please baby.”

Harry rubs his back and coaxes him to maintain steady breaths in a soft voice, and when Louis finally calms down, tears burn in his eyes and he slumps into Harry’s chest, letting them fall.

“You’re okay,” Harry soothes. “You’re fine. You’re gonna be just fine. It was just a nasty bout of coughing love, everything’s okay. Breathe for me, just try and breathe, okay? Focus on that.”

“I’m dying, Harry,” he croaks, rough and hoarse. He barely has a voice left, he doesn’t know how he’ll ever sing again.

“Stop that nonsense, you are _not_ dying.” Harry continues rubbing his back in gentle circles, pulling him as close as possible. “You are not dying, no one is dying. You are going to get through this and you are going to be just fine and everything is going to be alright, okay? In a few months’ time, this will all be over and we’ll be preparing to go back on tour. You won’t be sick anymore, and you’ll be able to go back to your normal life. You just need to calm down and breathe for me, alright?”

Harry has a habit of doing this – going off on long tangents when he answers someone. Normally, Louis would find it annoying and cut him off in the midst, but he’s particularly enjoying the slow, soothing sound of Harry’s voice and the gentle pressure of his large hand on his back. He never wants it to stop.

“Keep rubbing.” He’s begging at this point, but he really doesn’t care. “Feels nice.”

Harry presses a kiss to his cheek and the pressure his hand is putting on Louis’ back increases. Louis almost melts into it, smiling and going completely lax in Harry’s arms. This is nice. These are the types of things that urge him to keep fighting – small things, like back rubs and cups of tea and other delicacies he won’t have if he’s no longer on this planet. They’re small things, but they hold just as much power as the big, obvious ones. 

“Do you want to go to sleep, Lou?”

Louis shakes his head and curls in further. “Just wanna stay like this forever. Don’t let me go.”

“That wasn’t an option, babe,” Harry reassures gently. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving you like this, trust me.”

“Love you, Harry.”

“I love you too, Lou. I’m so sorry all of this is happening to you. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of this. If I could take it away from you, I definitely would.”

“You tell me that every day,” Louis breathes. “Don’t you think it’s getting a little old by now?”

“Doesn’t mean it’s lost its meaning.” Harry presses another kiss to his cheek, and Louis sighs softly. This is so nice, the feeling of Harry loving him despite everything, despite how unattractive and sickly he looks, despite how much of an asshole he’s been, despite everything. This is a gesture that brings him back to Earth, when it seems so far away.

These are the types of things that give him a purpose. 

…

Louis’ next check up doesn’t go as well as any of them hoped.

“The chemo isn’t working fast enough.”

Louis stares at the doctor with wide eyes as his heart leaps into his stomach. This has always been a fear of his – what if the chemo doesn’t work? What if it isn’t enough to combat the devastating symptoms of cancer? What if there’s nothing they can do, what if his cancer is too advanced for treatment? Those are the questions that first crossed his mind when they told him he had cancer, the first few thoughts that raced into his brain when he made a decision not to get treatment. They used to be viewed as the worst possible outcomes that probably never would happen, but now, now they’re his reality. 

“Lou, before you start panicking, let’s get some more information.” Harry’s arms tighten around his waist and he feels a pair of lips press to the side of his head, the curly-haired lad trying every tactic in the book to calm him down. 

“Yeah, what exactly do you mean by that? How is the chemo not working _fast_ enough?”

“The cancer cells in your body are multiplying faster than the chemo is able to kill them, deeming it ineffective, at this point. That’s why you’re getting sicker and sicker, your body is trying to fight off infections, but you don’t have enough of an immune system to do that effectively. The chemo is being administered in the normal dosages, but it’s not enough to counter the cancer cells.”

“What…” Liam struggles to find the words, his voice catching in his throat. He takes a few moments to swallow and compose himself, before continuing. “What do we do? How do we help him?”

The doctor sighs. “There isn’t much we can do about that, I’m afraid. There are a few other stronger drugs that we can try, but it’s all up to Louis’ body and what it decides to do.”

“Can’t you get him in for sessions more often?” Niall finally breaks his silence, speaking from where he’s leaning against a wall with his arms crossed against his chest. “Y’know, more chemo to help fight the cancer?”

“That would do more harm than good, I’m afraid. These drugs used in chemotherapy are already killing off multiple healthy cells, which is why Louis is losing weight and becoming more fragile and sickly, and most visibly, why he lost his hair. If we go any more often than twice a week, it’s an extreme danger to the body – something he won’t be able to recover from. It’s dangerous to do even this much, but none of the patients who have been through this treatment before have had permanent side effects.”

“So now what?”

“We’re going to do the regularly scheduled chemo session you have today, and use the stronger drugs. We’ll continue on that for about a week and a half, three sessions, and see where it takes us. We need it to work, because we’re running out of options if it doesn’t. So if you guys pray or seek guidance from some higher being, now would be a great time to do that. Louis, you need all the luck you can get at this point. Your body needs to fight for you, or your survival rate is going to drop dramatically and the chances of this killing you escalate to dangerous highs.”

…

Harry’s fist slams into the wall as soon as the doctor leaves the room, an angered scream falling from his lips as he squeezes his eyes shut. Although the action looks quite painful, it doesn’t seem to faze him as he brings his arm back to punch the wall again. Before he can punch it for a third time, Niall reaches over and catches his wrist, keeping him from sending it into the plaster once more.

“Harry, calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down?!” Harry rounds on Niall immediately, wildness in his eyes. He looks almost animalistic, infuriated and enraged. “How the fuck am I supposed to calm down?! How is any of this supposed to calm me down?! I can’t calm down!”

“Harry. Harry, look at me.” Louis manages to get green eyes to lock with his own blue ones, and he sighs. “I know that this is scary for you, and trust me, it’s not any less scary for me. I’m the one going through it. But you can’t do things like that, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Stop, don’t say that! I’m so fucking sick of everyone pretending things are okay! Nothing is okay! Louis is probably gonna fuckin’ die from this, and then what? How are we supposed to go on? What are we supposed to do?!”

“Harry-” Zayn reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, but the curly-haired lad flinches away.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me. Leave me alone.”

“Someone needs to go after him.” Louis glances to Liam, Niall, and Zayn with serious eyes. “I can’t chase him, one of you needs to. He can’t be alone right now.”

“I’ll-”

“I’ll go.” Niall cuts Liam off with a simple stare. “He doesn’t need to be told fantasy tales of sunshine and rainbows about how everything is gonna be alright.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd post last weekend, but I got caught up in studying for my SATs. I took them this morning, and that's why the chapter didn't go up last night either. Sorry about that. I hope this chapter makes up for it. 
> 
> Heavy trigger warning for self-harm in the last scene - skip it if you know you'll be triggered. Enjoy.

“Harry, hey, wait up!”

Niall finally catches up to the younger lad, shoving his hands into his pockets and falling into place beside him. 

“What, did they send you to come talk some sense into me? I’m not in the mood for logic and pretentious bullshit right now. I just wanna be pissed.”

“Wonderful. We can be pissed together.”

A look of surprise crosses Harry’s face at Niall’s compliance, but he doesn’t comment on it. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m really fucking pissed about this entire thing. Have been from the start. It’s like, we’re used to our lives being like a tornado of some sorts, but this is taking it to the next level. Everything’s happening so fast, and I don’t have time to breathe, it seems like. I need time to process, and I’m not getting it.” 

“I know what you mean.” Harry nods in agreement. “Like, I thought that smothering Lou with love and trying to take care of him the best I knew how would help me forget about the fact that he has _cancer_ , cancer that’s _fatal_ , but all it’s done is gotten me more attached to him, all the more reason for me to be terrified he’s gonna die.”

“Fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”

“It really does. I hate cancer. It destroys lives and ruins everything with no thought to what it’s leaving behind. It’s a fuckin’ monster.”

“You’re not alone there.” Niall pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, pulling one out and offering one to the other lad.

“No, no thanks, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Niall raises an eyebrow. “Zayn wasn’t wrong. They really do help. Partly the reason I’m able to get through most of the shitty days like this, to be honest.”

“I’m fine,” Harry repeats. “I don’t wanna fuck up my lungs any more than the asthma has already done. But you’re free to smoke, I don’t mind.”

Niall chuckles bitterly, shaking his head as he lights the cigarette. “At least you’re not gonna pull some type of intervention bullshit like Zayn and Louis and Liam have tried to do. They think that telling me what I’m doing to my body by smoking is gonna make me quit. Bullshit.”

“You’re old enough to make your own choices, even if I don’t agree with them. Although I do advise you not to smoke that, it’s not my call.”

“You’re damn right it isn’t,” Niall replies. “Everyone deals with their stress in a shitty way, this is mine. I don’t know why you guys are all so hellbent on changing it, but you really need to back the fuck off.”

“Can we go back to what we hate? That’s something I don’t really get to talk about much.”

Niall blows out a puff of smoke, waving a hand. “Fire away.”

“Alright, I really fucking hate how Liam is always sunshine and positivity and being optimistic, because that’s not how life works. You’re allowed to be upset and feel like shit and feel sorry for yourself, and I don’t think he gets that. Life doesn’t always need to be peaches and cream, rainbows and cupcakes. Sometimes it fuckin’ sucks, and he needs to get that.”

“I agree completely.” Niall inhales deeply, nodding. “But I think it comes from the fact that he sees himself as the unofficial father figure of the band, so he’s trying to live up to that. Doesn’t make it any less irritating, but that’s where it comes from.”

“I just wish he’d open up and allow himself to feel like shit, allow himself to hurt over Lou’s diagnosis. Because cancer isn’t something you just shove down inside and hope to one day be okay with. He’s gonna break sometime, and that’ll be the time when he surprises all of us, even himself.”

“That’ll be the day,” Niall mutters. “The day Liam finally breaks out of his happy positivity bullshit, and realizes that real people feel real emotion and that’s okay. That shouldn’t be looked down upon and we shouldn’t be told not to feel it, because it’s normal and it happens to everyone and he needs to recognize that.”

“I kinda like it sometimes, though,” Harry mumbles. “Like, when I’m having a really bad day and he’s there to tell me that I’ll be alright and everything will eventually work out. It’s like a glimmer of hope and it really does help when I need it to. Otherwise, it’s just flat out irritating. No one can be that damn happy all the time.”

“Exactly! Like, what is he trying to prove? Why is he training himself to be happy even when everything’s going to shit and nothing is right? It’s like he doesn’t know how to feel negative emotions anymore. It fucking bothers me. Negative emotions are a part of life, and he needs to realize that.”

“More than realize it, he needs to accept it. He needs to accept that not all of us are gonna be happy and positive and optimistic every damn day of our lives. If I’m having an off day, I don’t want to be reprimanded for it. I don’t get why he refuses to understand that. Seems like a pretty simple concept to me.”

“I guess it’s just the way he grew up, the way he’s used to feeling. Like, he’s been through a lot of shit in his life and if he’d gone and gotten all depressed and negative, he wouldn’t have made it through a lot of it. Like, the positive attitude helps in some situations, but not all of them. It doesn’t work every time. Humans are capable of feeling multiple emotions for a reason.”

Harry sighs. “He’s so used to being happy, he’s almost forgetting what it’s like to feel anything else. That should be a good thing. But it’s not. His logic doesn’t always work, and this is one of the times where it’s really not fucking necessary. I’m just not in the mood to be positive, not when everything’s going to shit and I might lose the person I’m goddamn in love with.”

…

The fact that he just let those words out of his mouth is starting to hit him as soon as he says them. Regret is overcoming him like poison – flowing throughout his veins and weakening him.

“Fuckin’ _finally_.” Niall exhales and rolls his eyes. “Did think I was oblivious or just stupid, Harry? I knew. Everyone knew. You and Louis are the only people that don’t seem to get how fuckin’ gone you are for each other, and it’s hilarious.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“I mean that he loves you, and you just said that you love him, and you two are way too close to be “just friends”. Why not just confess your feelings, start dating, and be the fuckin’ happy couple we all know you are?”

“We’re not a couple.”

“Sure you aren’t. You’re just two people who look at each other like no one else exists and act like boyfriends. You just haven’t put a label on it. Anyone with eyes can see you have feelings for each other. The fans have been saying it from 2011, for Christ’s sake. It’s about time you two embrace it.”

“How can you guarantee he feels the same way? Because as he’s said, Larry is bullshit and he’s straight.”

Niall sighs heavily. “You really are fuckin’ stupid, aren’t you? Do you really think he tweeted that because he was tired of the fans saying you two were together? Management either tweeted it for him or forced him to do it. He didn’t do it out of his own free will.”

“That’s not what he told me.”

“Of course it isn’t, arsehole. Management also threatened him if he told you the real story. They’re fuckin’ dicks, you know that, I know that, hell, even the fans hate Modest and want us to drop them. So who are you gonna believe, Haz?”

“I’m still not sure he feels the same way, Niall,” Harry mutters. “You could just be assuming things.”

“And you _could_ just be an idiot. Oh wait, you are one.” Niall reaches over and thumps him in the back of the head. “Listen to what I’m telling you and you won’t be the one trying to put back pieces of your own broken heart. You’re not looking at the entire situation, Harry. Look at the whole picture, and trying to see only what you want to see.”

…

Self-harm is something that has always been at the back of his mind, as a way to let out stress and inner pain, but it’s never something he’s seriously considered doing. Up until now, his life has been pretty damn good – being put into a band with four of his best friends, undenying success, thousands of fans that love him for everything he is – sounds pretty good to him. The hate has always existed – some people have no better things to do, and resort to sitting behind a computer and verbally abusing celebrities – but he’s always been able to forget about it.

There was that incident during the Up All Night tour when he broke down on stage, but he was young then, and he wasn’t used to people hating him for no reason. Breaking down and crying into Zayn’s arms while an entire audience watched isn’t one of his best moments, but it shows how damaging hate can really be. However, when you’re in the music industry, you have to develop a thick skin. Not everyone is going to like you, and you have to be okay with that.

He is, for the most part. Not everyone is going to love him, and it’s not like he’s desperate for them to. But when he sees bullshit on Twitter about how they’re dicks for taking this unexplained hiatus, how Louis is probably just faking to not have to do work, things like that – that’s when anger and rage take over. It isn’t so much hurt, as it is pure rage. If those fucking assholes knew the hell Louis is going through, the hell they’re _all_ going through, they’d think twice before calling Louis lazy. Making assumptions about things and thinking you know shit when you actually know the opposite is really fucking stupid. What if you’re wrong? All you’re doing is making a shit name for yourself.

Anger and rage make him want to punch a wall sometimes. And then he remembers Harry’s severely bruised hand from his own attack on the plaster, and he’s kinda turned off by the idea. When these infuriating things rise, he’s so fucking pissed that he just wants to jump off a damn cliff or slam his fist into the wall because of how enraged he is. That’s where the cutting comes in.

This isn’t self-harm because he’s sad and wants to take his pain out on himself – it’s more along the lines of his anger and his need to destroy something. His own flesh is sitting there like a blank canvas, almost _begging_ to be marked up and turned into something resembling a work of art. It’s almost like he was meant to do this to himself, like his mind is making him do it. He knows that his actions are all his own, that there’s no higher force making him do anything, but it doesn’t matter much. His need to cut his own skin is fueled by anger, so that doesn’t make it as bad, right?

He thinks as much, as he tries to break open a razor. The things are held together tightly, and it takes a lot of force to split them open – probably for good reason, admittedly. He could always use a knife or something, but that would be too suspicious. Even if he was able to wash it off in time, seeing blood in the sink would only make someone extremely suspicious. He doesn’t need more eyes on him, the boys are already getting too insufferable for their own good. 

When he finally gets the blade out, he throws out the rest of the razor – there’s no way to put it back together and it’s not like he can use that on his face anymore. It’s one of his own razors, anyway, not like he stole one of the boys’ and they’re going to miss it.

He turns the metal over in his palm, almost mesmerized by the shiny glinting surface. It looks inviting, appealing, almost. Inciting enough for him to use it to split his own skin. It’s something many people would find so damn sick, but Niall’s had enough experience with their own fans to know that self-harm isn’t actually as uncommon as people think it is. Granted, that’s a really shitty thing and he hates that so many of their fans are struggling so badly. But it shouldn’t shock the boys, if they do find out what he’s doing.

He slices the metal through his skin, putting a lot of pressure on the blade as it sinks in. The gash is deep – frighteningly so, and quite painful. His first instinct is to put pressure on his arm and take some painkillers to numb the throbbing – but his instincts are just trying to avoid the pain he’s causing himself. They’re trying to protect him, and he’s already past the point of protection. 

He does clean up a little of the blood and put some pressure on the cut, just to make sure he doesn’t lose too much blood. He doesn’t want to die, not by any means. He just wants to get his feelings out, and he doesn’t have many avenues to make that happen, besides destroying his body. If that’s what it has to come to, so be it.

Five more cuts join the first, each hurting less as he makes them in perfect succession, barely thinking about it as he goes. They say the first time you try something addicting, you’ll hate it, but eventually you’ll keep going back, until you’re in too deep. They’re wrong, in this case. He _loves_ this. 

The blood reminds him he’s still alive – even though part of him wishes he would no longer exist. And the pain is a way out, a way to take his feelings out and cause himself pain without anyone knowing. It’s going to be hard to hide, though. It’s still really hot out – jumpers are going to arise suspicion. He probably should’ve thought this out more – doing it on his stomach or thighs would have been a better option. It doesn’t really matter though, it’s giving him the relief he needs and that’s all he cares about.

He cleans his arm up – albeit too roughly, just because he’s addicted to the feeling of pain, and bandages it in a way that makes it look like his wrist is sprained. The perfect hiding place for his blade is shoved between his bed and the floor, and that’s where he puts it, making sure its gleaming edges are hidden from prying eyes.

As long as the environment around him looks just as normal as it did when he first came in, he’s good. He just has to make sure the boys don’t try and grab his right arm in a way that’ll make his cuts hurt, and he can’t act too strange around them, or that’ll arouse suspicion. To keep his addiction secret, he has to change the way he acts, but it’s a small price to pay for what cutting is giving him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and depression. We're nearing the end of the fic, guys. I'm estimating only a few more chapters. Anyway, enjoy.

Harry’s been distant.

That’s really all Louis has been able to conclude in the past few days, constant migraines and fevers making it harder to process much more than that. He’s missed the curly-haired lad’s presence, definitely. Harry is the one who holds him through the migraines and cools him down when the fever becomes really bad. Harry is his sole caretaker, the only person willing to assume that much of the responsibility. Not having him around as much has definitely taken a toll.

He knows Harry’s scared, Louis is scared too. He’s the one dying, not Harry. So why is Harry acting like he doesn’t exist? If he’s going to die soon, shouldn’t Harry be interested in spending as much time with him? Especially since they don’t know how much time he has. He doesn’t have a death sentence or an estimated number of months, but fatality is a high risk, at this point. There’s a very real chance he could die. And it’s fucking terrifying.

When he signed up to get chemo, he knew there was a possibility that it wouldn’t work, but he never realized how big of a possibility it was. It was always there – a thought lingering at the back of his mind, nagging him irritably. He just never assumed it’d actually become reality, just like he never assumed he’d get fucking _cancer_.

“Lou, hey, you still with me?”

He blinks, sighing. “Sorry Li, m’just thinking.”

“About Harry, right? And how he’s refusing to acknowledge your existence?” There’s a bitter edge to Liam’s voice, and Louis can tell why. Although Harry’s been a real dick with the distance thing, he’s scared. He doesn’t want Louis to die, and Louis really doesn’t want to go either, but life fucking sucks. Things go wrong. It happens. He can’t just leave when everything gets bad, that’s not how it works. 

“He’s scared, Li. Of what’s going to happen.” 

Liam rolls his eyes. “So am I. And Zayn. And Niall. But we’re not sitting around and pretending you’re invisible, are we?”

“Everyone deals with things in different ways, Liam. Not everyone is as apt at composing themselves during a hard situation like you are. Let Harry have his time to grieve and be upset and pissed and punch walls and whatever else it is he wants to do. He’s allowed to deal with this in the best way he can. Just because you don’t agree with it, doesn’t mean you have the privilege to knock it and him.”

…

It takes a while for that feathered thing called hope to come tumbling into their lives again.

The next few weeks are filled with tears and fights and harshly exchanged words – a period of time in which thoughts of death only seem to get stronger. It seems weird – snowballing so badly in only a couple months, going from happy and fulfilled, to self-harming, suicide, and depressed. It seems rushed and stupid, like he’s just destroying himself for no damn reason anymore.

Thing is, now that they’re not performing every night and don’t have a crazy schedule, he has more time on his hands than he knows what to do with. He doesn’t need to make time to self-depreciate or cut or anything of the sort – he has way more time on his hands than he knows how to use, so it’s something that’s just started happening. It’s funny, how much of an impact the fans have on him and how much they keep him from slipping into the depths of depression.

Fame can really fuck you up, and it’s seemed like he’s been ignoring all of that because he didn’t have the time to dwell on it, and now that he does, everything is going to shit faster than he can even process. A snowball effect. Continual and unwilling to stop for anything in its path, that’s the biggest problem. Everything is a whirlwind – a rush of events, time flying by like it does when they’re on tour. There’s still no time for him to just _relax_.

He’s constantly worried about Louis and whether he’s going to wake up every morning with four brothers, or end up with three. Everyone is hyperactively worried about Louis, and the tension it’s causing is something that’s trying to slowly force them apart. None of them are really on good terms anymore, Liam and Harry are fighting, Zayn and Harry are fighting, and he’s fighting with Zayn and Liam, so it’s basically Niall and Harry against Liam and Zayn, with poor Louis stuck in the middle.

Louis doesn’t want to choose sides, he’s made it quite clear – but it’s pretty obvious that he’s leaning to Harry and Niall’s side, which is kinda nice. Zayn and Liam are making up all this bullshit about how negativity is making Louis sicker, which in all reality couldn’t be further from the truth. Louis has said it himself. 

Sighing, he leans his head back against the brick wall and closes his eyes. This type of thing is both agonizing and numbing at the same time – agonizing because agony is all he knows at this point, he lives in a perpetual state of pain, but numbing because so many bad things have happened recently that he’s slowly started to become numb to everything. Shitty things happening is normal now – there’s nothing that fazes him. Louis’ cancer was what started it. Shitty things happen to good people and the world is fucked up in every way possible, and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Everything is going to shit.

“Niall?”

The voice seems to startle him out of his trance, and he bolts up, looking at Louis with wide eyes.

“What the hell are you doing out here?! You’re supposed to be inside, you have no _immune system_!”

“I’m fine, Niall,” Louis says hoarsely. “Can I sit?”

Niall nods, scooting over to make room. Louis lowers himself down and Niall surveys his emaciated body, the sight breaking his heart. He looks like he’s anorexic, but he’s not. He’s going through cancer. Either way, he looks like utter shit, skin and bones to the point where it’s unhealthy.

“Why are you here, Lou? You need to be resting…”

“All I do anymore is rest, Ni. I’m sick of it. I don’t feel like resting anymore. And I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Shoot.”

“Why haven’t you been sitting with me for chemo sessions and shit?”

Niall freezes, looking at Louis like the older lad has just told him that a relative of his is dead. He doesn’t have words – there’s no way to answer this question in a way that isn’t the truth. He can’t lie to Louis, the other lad knows him far better than to believe something like that. What the fuck is he supposed to do now?

“I’ve sat with you…” He tries to pass it off easily, but his defense is feeble and pathetic. He knows it as soon as the words come out of his mouth, and it’s obvious that Louis knows it too.

“Niall, since I’ve been diagnosed with cancer, two months ago, I’ve had sixteen sessions of chemo. You haven’t been to any of them. The other boys have been trying to divide the sessions between themselves to make up for what you haven’t done. I’m not mad at you. I just want to know why.”

“It’s nothing, Lou. I swear.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Jesus christ, Niall. I know you better than that. You can’t lie to me, I don’t know why you keep trying. Tell me the truth, it’ll help you feel better.”

“That is the truth.”

He needs to be persistent with this, because hopefully, Louis will accept it and leave him to cry and cut because he’s a really shitty friend and anyone with eyes can see that.

“No, no it’s not. You’re not okay, Niall. You’re smoking pot and drinking yourself stupid, not to mention other destructive things I probably don’t even know about. And I don’t know why you’re doing any of it, but I want to know. I want to help you, Niall. But I can’t do that if you don’t let me. Let me help you, Ni.”

He sounds so desperate and Niall hates what he’s about to do, but it has to be done. “You have fuckin’ cancer, Louis. You’re probably going to die. You don’t have long left. So why bother spending it with the fuck up who can’t accept any of those facts? Why not try and make the most of your last days?” He tries to laugh weakly at the end, but the sound catches in his throat and he gives up, closing his eyes in disgust at himself.

“Niall…shit, I had no idea it was so bad…”

“What? I’m that shitty of a friend? I know that. You don’t have to tell me. Just go back to bed and let me rot out here. I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“Oh, really?” Louis reaches over and grabs his wrist, and he tries not to flinch in pain, but his instincts betray him.

Louis’ face crumples. “I…I thought I was going to be wrong, fuck…” He doesn’t give Niall any time to answer, instead drawing up his sleeve and letting out a loud cry at what he finds.

“What have you _done_ , Niall?”

Niall sighs, and when he speaks again, his voice is hollow. “I needed to destroy something. So I destroyed myself.”

…

“I don’t understand…why, self-harm? I mean, I kinda get the weed and the alcohol and shit, but…why are you cutting yourself…?” He chokes on the last two words, as if they’re very hard to force out. He never imagined he’d be saying something like this to _Niall_ , of all people. Niall, the one who radiates happiness and sunshine and laughter wherever he goes, is hurting himself, and Louis doesn’t think he can comprehend that fact.

“Everything’s just so fucked up, Lou,” Niall whispers, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. “Like, I don’t know how to do anything anymore. It’s all just so messed up and nothing is right and I really kinda wanna fucking die because that would put an end to all of this.”

“But would it make our lives any better?” Louis replies, trying to force his emotions back so he can talk to Niall calmly. He can break down later, this conversation needs to be had. “You’ve had to deal with the fact that I might die, and it’s part of the reason you did this. So you must know the impact of possibly losing one of your brothers. Why would you want to do that to us?”

“Weren’t you the one who said not to guilt trip?”

Louis sighs. “I know. I’m a damn hypocrite. But you gotta understand…we can’t lose you, Ni. You’re too important to be lost. Too many people wouldn’t be able to wake up tomorrow morning if you decided to commit suicide tonight. Even if you don’t see how important you are, you’re really what helps keep this band together. You’re the glue that holds us in place, Niall.”

Niall shrugs and shakes his head. “No, that’s you and Liam. I’m just the crazy one.”

“You’re the comic relief,” Louis corrects. “And sometimes, we all need that. Comic relief is something that really helps during hard times, and that’s where you excel. We need that. We need _you_. Nothing would be the same without you, I promise you that.”

Niall shakes his head again, sitting up against the wall. “No, you don’t. You just think you need me, you really don’t. I could die, and nothing would change about the band. My voice is similar to Liam’s, so he could cover all my parts and no one would know the difference. And my presence…well, a lot of the fans hate me anyway, they’d be glad to see me go.”

“Is that where this is stemming from? The hate?”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not suicidal because a couple hate comments were too much for me. It just feels like our lives have been such a whirlwind lately, that I haven’t had time to sit down and let myself feel the emotions I’ve kept inside. And now that we haven’t been doing anything for two months, I’m feeling everything. And I’m realizing that I act a lot happier than I actually am. It’s shit, Lou.”

“You’re right, it is shit. You don’t deserve to feel like that,” Louis says gently. “No one does. But killing yourself won’t fix the problems, it’ll just create new ones for me and the boys, not to mention the fans and everyone else who loves you with every fiber of their being. You doing something like this would be colossal, Niall. It’s not some silly thing people can just get over in two seconds, trust me. You’re not worth that little.”

“Your perception of me isn’t how I feel about myself,” Niall mutters. “You may think I’m the best person ever, but I beg to differ. I’m a lot shittier than you think. After all, I’m just a bad friend in general. I haven’t sat in on any of your chemo sessions, I’ve barely been there for you while you’re going through absolute hell…I’m not a good person, Louis. Just because you see me as one, doesn’t mean I am one.”

“You have a reason for not wanting to sit in on my sessions, and a damn good one at that. All this talk about cancer and dying and chemo and shit…it scares you. I can see it in your eyes, how terrified you are of all of this. The weed and the drinking and everything was to escape it, wasn’t it? An escape route. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to let yourself breathe. And you’re allowed to do anything you need to do to put your needs above mine, because you are important, Niall. Don’t think you’re not just because I have cancer. The battles you’re fighting take strength and no one should invalidate you. But you’re not allowed to kill yourself. Not because people would miss you, but because it won’t solve anything. Trust me, it won’t.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “I really think you’re missing the point here, Lou. It won’t matter if my problems aren’t solved. They won’t matter to me. My problems will disappear. Why? Because I’ll be fuckin’ dead.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't post last week, it was the start of the week before my spring break, so teachers were piling shit up on us. I'm officially on break for the next week now, so I'll try to post another chapter toward the middle of next week. Trigger warnings for depression, self-harm, and suicide. Enjoy.

“Boys, we’ve called you all here because we have something very important to discuss with you.”

Walking into their management office is kind of scary, Louis will admit that much. He remembers doing this multiple times, and being given really shitty news. Like when he was told he needed to keep some distance with Harry, or when they were told that Zayn was leaving the band. He doesn’t have good memories of walking into this office, and he really doesn’t want to add this to the ongoing list.

“Careful, Lou.” Zayn helps him into a chair gently when he stumbles, leaving a resting hand on his shoulder.

“Zayn, you really can’t be here. You’re not in the band anymore, this is something only Liam, Harry, Niall, and Louis can hear.”

Zayn shrugs. “Then I guess now would be a good time to announce that I want to rejoin.”

He moves his hand to the back of Louis’ neck, rubbing gently and serving to calm the older lad down, which is a great move, because Louis is fucking _panicking_. 

Zayn really needs to start talking things over with him, before he does things. This is getting to the point where it’s causing him unnecessary panic and shock, and goddamn, he hates it. He hates being shocked all the time by Zayn’s decisions. Did he really learn nothing from the fight they had?

“Lou, hey, breathe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He wheezes, looking up at Zayn tearfully. “You should’ve told me…you said you were gonna stop all this. All the secrets. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Zayn sighs. “I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure if I was going to go through with it, Lou. And now, now I finally feel like I can tell people because I’m going through with it. It’s nothing against you, it’s just me being stupid and not being able to decide whether I’m leaving or staying.”

“So you’d like to come back?”

“That is what I just said, isn’t it? I checked with my lawyer, and I’m free to come back whenever I want, and I want to rejoin now. I’ve had a long time to think about everything, and the truth is, I can’t function without my boys. I can’t live my life without them in it. I thought this wasn’t for me. I was wrong.”

“Of course you can come back, we were all hoping you’d reconsider your decision to leave outright. We’ll have to sort out the details with your lawyer and release a statement, but for now, you can sit in on this, since you will be rejoining the band.”

Zayn nods, like he expected the response from the start. He slips a hand into Louis’, and Louis swallows hard, squeezing it for dear life.

“Why have you called us here, actually?” Liam asks. “Now that Zayn’s made his announcement, make yours.”

“We need to make a statement about your cancer, Louis.” The rep looks sympathetic, but really, her kind eyes do nothing to alleviate the anxiety skyrocketing inside of him right now. “It’s been over two months. Your ratings are dropping because people think this was an excuse to get out of touring. The backlash is overwhelming, and you’re starting to lose fans. We cannot keep this hidden any longer.”

“This is a medical issue, and he is under no obligation to put his medical records online for the entire damn world to see,” Niall growls. “He doesn’t have to say anything about it, if he doesn’t want to. And you can’t force him to do anything. That’s not how this shit works.”

“We’re not putting his medical records online – nothing that drastic by _any_ means. We are just going to make a statement saying that he has cancer, and that is why you guys have been on hiatus. Nothing more.”

“You say that like it’s no big deal, it’s going to break the internet and cause so much mass hysteria and panic that isn’t needed,” Harry points out. “And you’ll have to do damage control. Why does it matter what our ratings are or what haters think of us? Our real fans will stick with us, through thick and thin. And in the end, they’re the ones who really matter.”

“That’s all wonderful, Harry, but as a record company, we are concerned with your ratings. You guys are our biggest money makers, and the reason this company is so popular. If new artists see Modest Management as shady or something along those lines, due to us withholding the truth, it’ll make them not want to sign with us. This not only hurts you, but hurts us as well. Something needs to be done about it.”

“Is that supposed to placate us? That’s fuckin’ bull. We’re not putting Louis through even more shit so your precious ratings don’t go down. We’ve made you enough money to last enough lifetimes. End of discussion.”

“No,” Louis says hoarsely. “Make the statement. Tell the fans. I don’t care anymore. Do whatever the hell you want.”

…

“Lou, you didn’t need to do that.”

Zayn supports Louis as best he can as they walk back to the car, making sure to flank him closely so he’s there to catch the thinner lad if he ends up stumbling. 

“What choice did I have?” Louis shakes his head and closes his eyes. “It’s fine, whatever. They wanted to release the statement, they can deal with all the backlash that’s gonna come with doing that. It’s not my problem anymore.”

“Lou…”

“No, seriously. I’m so sick of management being fucking irritating with all this shit. It’s better just to let them do what they want and watch things become a trainwreck because the fans aren’t fucking stupid like they think they are. It won’t be our fault afterward, it’ll be all Modest’s, so what do we have to lose?”

“Our career? Our reputation?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You act like there aren’t hundreds of record labels begging to sign us. Dropping Modest is the best decision we could ever make, if I’m honest with you. I’ve wanted to do it ever since they wanted to separate me and Haz in public. We shouldn’t have to hide who we are because of our stupid reputation. They base everything on our reputation, it’s starting to become some stupid excuse they keep pulling out of their asses and overusing.”

“We can drop them after you beat this thing, Lou, but right now, all you should be focused on is your health. That’s all that matters. You need to be healthy, you shouldn’t be worrying about our record label and how fucking shitty they are,” Liam says gently. “Just focus on beating this shit.”

“I am, I’m going to beat it, and then we can drop Modest and sign with someone who can let me be the fucking gay ass member I am, and that’ll be the best thing ever.”

…

He really didn’t expect to come out that way, but it just sort of happened and he’s kinda happy it did.

He’s never really considered it to be a problem if he’s gay, not for the boys, but he could never figure out a right time to break the news. It’s something that he almost forgot they didn’t know, like he didn’t expect it to be such a shock when it just came tumbling out.

Now that it is out, he’s happy. He doesn’t have to worry about accidentally telling someone when he least expects to, he already did that. It’s both a sigh of relief and a shock at the same time, and he honestly couldn’t be happier about it. It’s out, all of him has been revealed to the boys now, including the secret he’s been harboring for years. He should feel vulnerable and exposed, but none of that even creeps into his mind, because all he feels is relief.

It wasn’t his intention to keep it hidden this long, but somehow, that’s the way it worked out. There was never any right time to make his sexuality known. He never could figure out the properly time to ‘come out of the closet’, although he finds the idea of that quite idiotic. Why do you have to come out of some damn closet if your sexuality is anything but straight? Why isn’t it normal to have that period of time when you figure out what you identify as. Why does the entire fucking world assume everyone’s straight? That’s not the case.

All the Larry shit that went down before is the main reason he’s kept it under wraps for so long. It’s not like he’s ashamed of who he is. The pride he has in his sexuality is unimaginable. It’s just the idea of causing more drama and more craziness within their already crazy fandom that’s made him want to hide it. And management. Mostly management. 

It’s not that he doesn’t like Harry in that way. He does. Really, he wishes that he and Harry could be together as publicly as possible. He wishes he could kiss Harry in public and hold his hand as they walk down main street. That’s the dream. 

But instead, he’s stuck with cancer and no chance of ever being Harry’s one and only.

…

When he said their life was a whirlwind before, he really meant it. It’s getting to the point where he’s starting to feel his heart start to race and his breathing start to speed up any time someone mentions Louis or the hospital. It’s gotten so bad that he can’t face Louis, not now, not ever. He’s trying to distance himself so it won’t hurt as much when the older lad dies, but the attempts are futile. Either way, it’ll hurt like fucking hell, and he isn’t ready for it. 

He brings the blade back over his wrist, slicing deeply and not caring when the pain really hits. It’s not like cutting doesn’t hurt, it does. He isn’t one of those people who’s completely numb to the pain, in fact, they really confuse him. How can you be numb to physical pain, so much so that slicing your skin open doesn’t hurt? It’s all very confusing and cutting does hurt, but he’s addicted to the pain and that’s why he’s doing it. He can’t get enough of this. It’s too addicting, like nicotine or alcohol. A self-harm addiction is just as bad, if not worse.

He kinda understands why some of their fans do this now – it’s a good way to let out mental pain in the form of physical hurt. He doesn’t condone it – not by any means, but he does understand why some people do it. Some people find it necessary to cope and live their daily lives, and he can understand that. It makes sense, even though he wishes the fans didn’t have to go through so much and have to resort to this. It fucking sucks to get to the point where you crave self-harm and the sight of blood like you crave nicotine. 

He’s high off this, and he hasn’t smoked any weed today. Just seeing the blood is mesmerizing, a sight he never wants to forget. Creating gashes in intricate patterns on his skin is something that looks disgusting to many, but calming to him. It’s like art, deadly art, where his pale arm is the canvas, the gleaming razor in his hand is his paintbrush, and his blood is the paint. It’s so sickening, but so addicting. 

The other boys would probably be both terrified and disgusted if they found out. Louis already knows, but he hasn’t said anything to anyone, he’s kept quiet, and Niall appreciates that. Louis may have been pissed at him for what he’s been doing, but he’s still loyal enough not to spread the word to the three assholes who do nothing but yell at him for hurting because Louis has it worse. Louis knows that. He wants to protect him from that, and Niall can’t be more grateful.

There’s not one part of his life he’s happy about at the moment. He doesn’t like all the smoking and drinking and cutting he’s been doing, but it’s the only way he knows how to deal with his problems. It’s the only thing keeping him sane, keeping him from a major breakdown that would raise absolute hell. 

Anything he can do to keep from having a breakdown is amazing, at this point. There’s just so much pent up emotion inside, like he’s a volcano that hasn’t erupted in years. He can barely breathe under the weight of it all, and it’s all he can do, keep himself calm and stay away from an explosion, because that would be catastrophic and no one is ready to see something like it. 

It’s hard, trying to shove your emotions down, not letting yourself feel anything. He’s been doing it for years, but that doesn’t make it any less hard. His feelings aren’t really important to him, he’s more focused on life and the band and the fans and everything else, leaving his feelings in a corner, hidden from the world entirely. Some say it’s not good for your mental health to do that, but he’s not really at a place where he cares that much about his health. He wouldn’t be doing the destructive things he’s doing to his body, if he really cared that much.

It’s been a while since he let himself have a full on cry. Too long, in fact. His throat is closed and there are tears burning in his eyes. His chest aches and he feels sort of numb but sort of pained, all at the same time. This is surely a breakdown, and having these mini breakdowns is healthy. It helps to feel something, as much as he wants to deny that. It helps to allow yourself to feel the emotions, you have them for a reason. They’re not meant to be shoved away and forgotten about. 

The tears really start, something he wasn’t expecting and isn’t prepared for. He squeezes his eyes shut to try and hold them back, but they leak out anyway, trickling down his face in shiny tracks, leaving him choked up. Once they start, once he really starts crying, he’s unable to stop. The tears just keep coming, faster and faster, dripping down his face and clinging to his neck.

“Oh god,” he chokes out, letting his head hit the wall. Everything hurts, physically and mentally. He was headed for a breakdown eventually. No person is capable of holding in as much as he has been, this was bound to happen.

It still hurts, as he sobs and cries and lets the tears overwhelm him. His head is killing him from the force of everything, and goddamn, he wishes he could be anywhere but here. Anywhere but this life, because it’s honestly too much and he’s so tired and nothing is going right and he can never breathe. He wouldn’t have breakdowns like this if he could breathe normally, if he could live life without cameras behind him and having to watch his every move, praying the media doesn’t make it something it isn’t. 

If only that was his life. He would be in such a better place now. This wouldn’t be his reality. None of this would be happening. He’d be happy. He’d be able to feel something.

If fucking only.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting last week. I got really busy with the third quarter ending, since teachers piled on tests and homework, and I actually had to write a couple scenes for this chapter. The next chapter is going to be the last, just so you guys know. Again, I do have more scenes to write, so I can't guarantee it being posted next Friday, but we'll see. Enjoy.

“Lou, can I talk to you?”

“You don’t need to ask.”

Harry seats himself in a chair next to Louis’ bed, and looks down at his lap for a few moments, trying to figure out how exactly he’s going to say the next few words. He has to put this delicately, as not to alarm Louis and send him panicking. 

“What’s up, Haz?” 

“I…we…we’ve always been really close, you and me, yeah?” Harry says, fumbling over his words. His hands are starting to get clammy and he’s starting to get shaky; why the fuck did he think this was a good idea? “And…we’ve always been closer t-than best mates usually are…”

“Haz, you’re shaking…” Louis look at him with concerned eyes and reaches for him, but Harry flinches away, shaking his head.

“M’fine, Lou. Just…you said you were gay, earlier…and I’ve hid this for a long time, but now, I can finally tell you. I like you, Lou. Possibly even love you. You’ve had my heart for so long now, and I don’t think I’m ever getting it back. You don’t have to try and feel the same way…I’d understand if you didn’t.”

“You’re such a fucking dumbass, Harry.”

He snaps his head up; he was expecting an angry response, but not one of this volume. Louis is probably so pissed at him, he probably hates him with a passion now. Goddamn, he’s fucked everything up.

“I- sorry, Lou, I’m so sorry…”

“What? No! That wasn’t me telling you I hate you now! You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear something like this from you, Harry. You know how I realized I’m gay? You. Imagining myself dating you was how I realized I like boys. I’ve liked you ever since I realized that I like guys, just been waiting for you to realize the same thing.”

“Jesus, Lou. I’ve felt like this about you since the X-Factor.”

Louis stares at him, gaze unwavering. “So why the fuck didn’t you say anything? We could’ve been together a lot sooner!”

“We’re together now,” Harry replies softly. “At least- I think we are?”

“If that’s what you want, I’m ready,” Louis says softly. “Now lean in, because I’m too weak to move.”

The kiss is amazing. It gives him the best feelings ever, pride, joy, light-heartedness, elation, it’s everything. Louis is everything. He’s absolutely everything, the world, the universe, infinity, and Harry can’t lose him. Not after he’s just gotten him in the way he’s dreamed about for five years. It’s way too soon for that.

“You need to beat this. Okay? You can’t leave me, not after I just got you.”

Louis smiles. “I’m beating this thing. It’s gonna protest and kick me down all it wants, try and get me to give in, but I’m gonna fuckin’ fight. I’m going to beat this, Haz. You’re not going to lose me, not now, not ever. I love you.”

“I love you too, Lou.” Harry’s voice is thick with tears and his throat is closing up, but he’s the happiest he’s been in months. “I love you so much.”

…

When Liam walks into Harry and Louis’ shared room, he’s stunned.

Harry has his arms wrapped around Louis, while Louis’ thin, shaky arms are wound around Harry’s neck, and the two of them have their lips pressed together, in what looks like a heated makeout session.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, wincing when they pull apart. He didn’t mean for them to hear him. He didn’t think he was that loud.

“I guess we have to explain, huh?” Louis says, as Harry turns to face Liam, wrapping an arm around Louis and letting the exhausted lad lean into his chest. Liam wants to answer, but seeing Louis look so serene, so comfortable, so relaxed, leaning against Harry – it’s beautiful. The relationship they have is beautiful. The only two people who didn’t realize how in love they were were Harry and Louis themselves. 

“It’s about time,” Liam replies. “You two have been destined to be together since the X-Factor. It’s taken you way too long to realize it.”

“Don’t worry, Niall already chewed me out for that,” Harry says sheepishly. “Apparently everyone knew we were in love except us.”

“Or, you knew you were in love with me and I knew I was in love with you, but both of us were too busy being fucking cowards to confess anything,” Louis adds. 

“But, um, Lou, I kinda need to talk to you…” Liam tries to keep his voice from shaking, but he doesn’t succeed. He’s wringing his hands, avoiding their eyes and trying not to appear as much of a mess as he actually is.

Louis nods, and Liam already knows that the older lad can tell something’s up. Louis has some kind of sixth sense for knowing when people are in trouble. He can see it when most people can’t, from appearances and certain things done differently due to panic. 

“I’ll go make you something to eat, then,” Harry says. He turns his head and brushes his lips against Louis’ a final time, and hugs him tight, before sliding off the bed and making his way out the door.

“I knew it, Li.” Louis speaks as soon as he’s sure Harry’s gone. “I knew this was coming?”

“What?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re the only one who hasn’t had a breakdown. It’s been a long time coming. You can’t be as okay as you seem to be. So it’s okay. Have your breakdown. I’m here to listen.”

“I – no, that’s not it, I…” He stammers, shaking his head angrily. “Dammit, what’s wrong with me?”

“You’re having a panic attack,” Louis deadpans. “That’s what’s wrong with you. You haven’t let yourself process all this. You’ve been so busy trying to be the optimistic, positive, cheerful person you are, that you’ve shoved your emotions about all of this inside, and Liam, they can’t be shoved down any longer. The barrier is breaking. They’re bursting out. You need to stop forcing them back.”

“I can’t,” Liam whispers. “I can’t do this. I’m not supposed to do this.”

“Where, in the book of Liam Payne, does it say ‘not permitted to have breakdowns’, or ‘not permitted to have emotions’? If you can tell me that, I’ll agree with you, but until then, fuck not being allowed to do this.”

“Louis, I,” He tries to take in a deep breath, but he’s panicking too hard, so it just ends in a tightness in his chest and a bad coughing fit.

“Breathe, Li,” Louis says gently. “Come sit down. You have to come to me.”

Liam almost falls on his way to sit on the side of the bed, and when he does, he’s fidgety, unable to sit still. Louis sighs, grabbing one of his hands and squeezing. “Stop thinking. You’re overthinking yourself into a panic, Li. Everything’s okay. I’m okay. We’re all gonna be okay.”

“Not when you could fucking _die_!” Liam hiccups, his breathing starting to speed up again.

“Fucking hell,” Louis mutters under his breath. “Liam, look at me. No, fucking _look_ at me. There you go. We’ve been over this. Yes, I could die. Yes, I have no immune system. Yes, my chances aren’t good. But no, I do not plan to let this take my lying down. If I can fight, I’m damn well gonna do it. You have nothing to worry about, Li. Weren’t you telling Niall this when he was worried about the same thing?”

“I said that for Niall’s sake!” Liam cries. “I said it because no one likes seeing Niall sad, and he needed some kind of reassurance! It doesn’t mean I believed it!”

“Why not? How much faith do you really have in me, Li?”

“More than there is in the world.”

“So what’s got you so worked up?”

“I can’t fix this,” Liam confesses brokenly. “Usually, there’s something I can do, some way I can help, but this…I can’t fix this. I can’t cure your cancer. I can’t guarantee you a one hundred percent chance of survival. Fuck, I can’t fucking fix this, Lou, and it’s fucking killing me.”

“Hey,” Louis says gently, squeezing his hand tighter. “You don’t have to fix this. And you have helped me. You’ve been so calm, so level-headed, throughout everything, and I wouldn’t have stayed sane if it wasn’t for you. You’ve helped me, Liam, so much.”

…

The next morning brings panic.

Louis has his next check up today, to see if the chemo is finally doing its job, and if not, he’s on the road to death.

He’s fucking shaking all over, terrified. He didn’t sleep all of last night because he was so worried, and now he just can’t do anything. His hands are shaking far too much. The ball of anxiety is growing in his chest, unlimited considering how nervous and scared he really is. This has to go right, it fucking _has_ to. He cannot get anymore bad news, he can’t handle anymore bad news. There’s been enough of that in the past few months to last him multiple lifetimes. No more.

“Lou, babe, stop.” Harry winds his arms around Louis’ waist and tightens his grip so Louis can’t move. He’s thin enough for Harry to be able to do this easily, and even for Harry to spin him around in his arms, so they’re facing each other.

Harry leans in and kisses him gently, before moving his lips to Louis’ cheeks and forehead. When he finally pulls back, he uses one hand to stroke Louis’ cheek, shaking his head when he sees threatening tears in his boyfriend’s eyes.

“Everything is going to be okay, baby,” Harry murmurs softly, kissing under his eyelids, kissing the tears away. “Please don’t cry. You’re going to be okay. This appointment is going to go well, as well as it possibly can. Please breathe for me, love. Calm down.”

“I…I c-can’t, Harry,” Louis whimpers. “I keep saying I’m going to beat this, but it’s not up to me! I can’t control what my body does with cells and shit, I can’t! I don’t know if I’m going to beat this, Harry, I can’t calm down, I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“Shhh, beautiful,” Harry replies, bringing Louis into his chest. Louis hiccups and snuggles against Harry’s body, inhaling his scent and pressing himself into his boyfriend’s shirt. He lets more tears fall, wrapping his arms around him as tight as possible. “Oh, Lou…”

“I can’t breathe,” Louis chokes out. “I want time to stop!”

Harry begins to sway side to side with Louis in his arms, trying to calm him down in the only ways he knows how. He rubs his back firmly, but gently, pressing multiple kisses to his head.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Harry repeats, much more firm this time. “You are going to be okay, I promise you. You’re not dying on us anytime soon. You’re going to beat this and live a long, happy life, and we’ll get married and start a family and have so many kids. And you and I will grow old together and spend the rest of our lives loving each other, until we finally die, when we’re like, 90. Almost 70 years from now. Not in the next year. You’re not dying in the next year, baby. I promise.”

“You can’t promise, you don’t _know_!” Louis cries, more tears spilling. “You don’t know and you can’t promise because you might break it so please don’t try and pretend this might not happen when you know it could!”

“You’re focusing on all the negatives, love, don’t do that. That’s only going to make you more upset. For all you know, the chemo is working and your body is slowly ridding itself of those nasty cancer cells. You haven’t been sick in a long time, your immune system is probably strengthening and going back to normal. If the chemo wasn’t working you’d be getting sicker and sicker, wouldn’t you? And you’re not.”

“It could have some effect none of us know about,” Louis whispers. “You’re not a doctor, you don’t know these things, stop trying to assume I’m better when I might not be!”

“Shhhh,” Harry says gently. “Stop. You’re overanalyzing the situation and it’s making you panic. You need to stop thinking, shut your mind off, before these thoughts wreak havoc. You don’t even know if they’re going to come true, so baby, please breathe for me. Forget about all of this, let’s just focus on your breathing, okay? Breathe deeply and slowly, focus on that.”

“I can’t!”

He has to think fast; Louis is panicking too much and he’ll start hyperventilating if he doesn’t calm down. “Lou, baby, can you hear my heart beating? Press your ear to my chest, do you hear it?”

He receives a small nod in response, and sighs in relief. “Okay, beautiful. Listen to that. That’s my heart beating, and it beats for you, and only you. And I wouldn’t lie to you, love. If I say you’re going to be this, you will. I believe in you. Just listen to my heart and try to calm down, okay? Everything is going to work out, just you wait and see.”

Louis is silent for a few minutes, before he lifts his head. His eyes are red and puffy and his cheeks are tearstained, but he’s smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too, beautiful.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for self-harm.

“I really think you should tell them, Niall.”

The blond lifts his head in surprise, watching Louis sink down into the chair next to him. Cancer has definitely taken its toll on the older lad. He’s pale, with sunken eyes and sallow skin. He reminds Niall of those people in the movies, the ones on their deathbeds, so frail and breakable. Breakable. It’s not a word he associates with the fiery spirit and loud personality that is Louis Tomlinson. It’s foreign – like the idea of Louis having cancer. The diagnosis is months old, but it still doesn’t feel real. 

“Tell them what?”

Louis raises an eyebrow, and his resemblance to a worried parent is uncanny. He’s giving Niall the same look that his dad would, the same gaze with narrowed eyes, and an expression that screams ‘are you kidding me?’. “Are you going to stop playing dumb or do I have to pull up your sleeves and show you?”

And then the panic sets in again. If he had a dollar for every panic attack he’s had since Louis was diagnosed, he’d be able to fund an education to Harvard on that money alone. But although the tightening of his chest and the breath leaving his body is all too familiar, he’s still forgetting how to breathe like he hasn’t been doing it for the past 22 years. 

“Don’t panic on me,” Louis says, gently, like he’s talking to a small child. The soft tones and careful touches that have become necessary around him are pathetic. He’s 22 years old, his breathing still goes short and his chest still closes in on him when certain subjects are brought up. His newfound addiction to self-harm is a prime example.

“Why the hell would I tell them?” His voice is strained and hoarse, his chest is tight, and it still hurts to breathe, but he’s trying to ignore the symptoms in favor of one normal conversation. The fact that he can’t have a simple conversation without losing control of his breathing is pathetic. 

“Because you need help, Niall,” Louis replies. “And I’m not enough at the moment. I’m sick and I can’t be there for you at all times, whenever you need it. They can. And they’re your brothers. They deserve to know.”

“They’re just gonna call me selfish and tell me that your problems matter more,” Niall whispers, his voice catching in his throat and ending in a cough. “I can’t take hearing that again.”

“They’re not going to say that,” Louis assures him. “And if they do, they’re dead.”

“I don’t know, Lou.”

“This is serious, Niall. You could accidentally go too deep one day, and what if I’m at a chemo session or asleep or I just can’t get to you in time? They need to know. They love you, Niall, and that’s what you need right now. Love. Compassion. Understanding. And if that doesn’t happen, they’re going to deal with me.”

…

“What’s this about, Lou?” Liam asks, as he takes a seat on the floor next to Zayn. He scoots in close to the other lad, and it warms his heart when he sees a hint of a smile break out on Zayn’s face.

“We’ve got some things to talk about,” Louis says, from his perch in Harry’s lap. “And the first thing is obvious. Harry and I are together.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “That’s news? You two have been together since the fuckin’ X-Factor, for christ’s sake. You just didn’t realize it.”

“Is there anyone who didn’t think we were a thing before?” Louis mumbles. “This is making me feel fuckin’ stupid for not realizing it earlier.”

“Which you are.”

“Yes, thank you Zayn.”

Niall squirms in his seat, reaching for Louis’ hand. He squeezes tightly, looking at the ground to avoid meeting any of their eyes. The action sets off warning bells in Liam’s mind. Niall hasn’t looked too great for a long time, but he looks particularly ashen and clammy today. 

“You okay, Nialler?”

Niall’s head snaps up, and the expression on his face brings to the surface a resounding ache in Liam’s chest. Fear and pain, a heartbreaking mix of emotion, and one that doesn’t belong on the face of someone so previously bright and bubbly. 

Louis leans over to whisper something into Niall’s ear, and if it’s possible, the blond pales further. Sticky, messy heartbreak turns to cold, hard worry in seconds. What the hell is wrong with him?

“Whatever it is, Ni, we’re here for you,” Liam murmurs. “I know we haven’t been the most supportive in the past few weeks, but that’s going to change.”

Niall mumbles something, so soft that he can’t hear it. Liam can see tears in the blond’s eyes, big, fat droplets of water just begging to be released.

“What was that, mate? Speak up, can’t hear you.” Zayn scoots closer to Niall as he talks, and Liam inches forward too. This is obviously hard for Niall, making him say it even louder might actually break him.

“I hurt myself.”

The silence that drapes the room after those three words is paralyzing. Liam, for one, feels like all the breath was knocked out of his body, and he is completely winded.

“You- You, what?”

Niall drops his head and doesn’t meet any of their gazes. Liam can see him visibly shaking. 

“May I?” His voice breaks on the last word, but he receives a nod in reply. Leaning forward, he grabs the right sleeve of Niall’s sweatshirt, and ever so delicately, draws it upward.

“Oh, baby…” The last word slips out before he can stop it, but no one in the room reacts to it. They’re more focused on the angry, jagged red slashes that line his arm. Niall either didn’t do a very good job of cleaning and disinfecting his wounds, or he didn’t care about doing it, because there’s dried blood everywhere.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ,” Zayn whispers from behind. “Niall, I, I don’t know what to say…”

“Say I’m a fuck up, a disappointment,” Niall mutters. “Tell me I’m selfish and taking your attention away from Louis. Because that’s what I’m doing, isn’t it? All the drugs and cigarettes and now this, all because I’m too much of a fuckin’ pansy to handle the fact that Louis has fuckin’ cancer. And I keep saying it over and over but that doesn’t mean it’s lost its meaning. I can’t do this. I fuckin’ can’t.”

“No, Niall.” Liam reaches forward and pulls Niall into his arms, lifting him off the beach chair and bringing him into his chest. Niall curls his body into a ball and presses his face into the crook of Liam’s neck, his tears dampening Liam’s skin.

“We’re here for you,” Zayn promises gently, wrapping his arms around them both. Harry and Louis join the hug seconds later, all four of them cocooning Niall in warmth, trying to cuddle the broken, jagged edges he’s developed away. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Harry promises. “We’re gonna make sure of it.”

…

The tension is palpable, almost able to be cut with a knife, on the way to the hospital. A combination of what Niall’s just told them mixed in with the fear of what’s coming next. Louis is still shaky and his anxieties about all of this have not quelled completely, so he’s sitting in Harry’s lap with his head on his boyfriend’s chest, eyes closed, trying to calm down and breathe. Listening to Harry’s heartbeat really does help; it grounds him and makes him feel safe, in a way. It’s a constant thing, something consistent in his life, and he definitely needs something like that now.

“It’s going to go well,’ Harry says, addressing them all. “You guys are worried for no reason. It is _going_ to go well.”

“Look who’s optimistic now,” Liam grumbles. “Didn’t you completely go off on me for that?”

“Louis is going to be finally.” He deftly ignores Liam’s comment, and continues rubbing his boyfriend’s back, trying to bring him some comfort. “We are going to go into that room and get him tested and the results are going to be good.”

“What, is your philosophy now that saying enough positive things will guarantee positive results?” Niall slouches in his seat and glares at them, hands crossed over his chest. “Seems like yesterday when you were complaining about how irritating Liam was when he did that.”

“Stop it, stop being dicks,” Harry growls back. “Louis is terrified and you guys thinking it won’t go well isn’t making his life any easier right now. I’m trying to calm him down and you are _not_ helping.”

“All we get from these appointments are bad news, so can you really blame us, Haz?” Zayn asks, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, all of us want the absolute best for Lou, but we’re so used to the bad news, it’s almost become customary. We’re just getting ourselves ready for the inevitable.”

…

“Alright, I’m just going to take some blood, and then all the tests will be concluded. You’ll have your results in a bit.”

Louis groans, still hurting from that bone marrow sample they took. He’s sore all over, curled into Harry’s chest with his face hidden so everyone doesn’t get an all-access pass to watch him cry.

The nurse takes his arm and puts the needle in quickly, and he barely flinches. This is such a routine process that he’s used to it, by now, and it doesn’t faze him anymore. He’s had to get used to the idea of constant needles in his skin, constant blood draws and tests, but something he’ll never get used to is bone marrow samples. Those things really hurt like a bitch. 

“You’re okay, beautiful, you’re fine,” Harry murmurs encouragingly. “Just relax. The results will be good. Just you wait.”

“You’re all set, I’ll just get this to the lab, and we should have your results soon. And for your sake, Louis, I really hope they’re good results. You’ve been through enough, these past few months.”

…

The results are taking fucking forever.

The longer they take, the more Louis wants to curl up in a hole and never come out. He’s settled for practically hiding his body against Harry’s, considering his frame is small enough now for that. He hasn’t looked up in a while, not wanting to see the tense, unpleasant looks on the other boys’ faces. They’re expecting bad news, and he doesn’t blame them. They’re no stranger to it at this point.

“I love you,” Harry murmurs, kissing his head. He semi-hates the way Harry keeps kissing his bald head and calling him beautiful. Anyone can tell he’s not beautiful, and the constant love keeps reminding him of what he one was. He hates what he is now, this is exactly what he was afraid of. He’s completely different, both physically and mentally. Nothing about him is the same, he’s retained no part of his old self, and he fucking hates it. He knew this would happen, he tried to tell them before the chemo started, but no one was willing to listen to him.

“Louis? Your results are in.”

His doctor’s voice causes immediate panic. He can feel his heart start to speed up, and his breathing is already going wacky, terror from the impending words overtaking him in waves.

“Shit, Lou. Calm. Remember? Breathe. Listen to my heartbeat. You’re okay. Everything’s okay, I promise. Just breathe for me.”

The doctor even looks concerned at the way he’s working himself up, most likely into a panic attack, but he can’t focus on anyone or anything right now. His head is spinning and his mind is racing so fast that he can’t even pick out individual thoughts from the jumbled mess.

“Breathe with me,” Harry coaxes gently. “In, and out. In, and out.” He coaches him through it multiple times, until his breathing is finally starting to even out and normalize, until he finally starts to calm down. Exhaustion is washing over him stickily, and he feels like he’ll pass out. He’s numb and dizzy from the mini panic attack, and he wants to sleep. He needs some rest, his tired body is protesting for it weakly. 

“There you go. I know you’re tired, angel, but just stay with me for a few minutes? Let the doctor talk, and then you can go to sleep.” Louis snuggles against his chest, glancing at the man in front of them with half-closed eyes.

“The test results have shown that, while the cancer cells are still there, the chemo is managing to fight them off in the way that it should, not any faster or slower, in the way it was supposed to. And his immune system is becoming stronger and stronger, so Louis, you’re not out of the woods yet, but you are definitely on the road to recovery.”

…

“Why are we celebrating? It’s not like we were just told he’s in remission.” 

Louis still isn’t used to the cynical personality Niall’s developed over the past few weeks. It jars him, to hear Niall, of all people, talk pessimistically about the worst possible outcomes and how fucked up everything is.

“We’re celebrating because Louis is getting better,” Harry responds. “And we’re celebrating you, Ni. Your courage and your strength and the fight you’re going through to try and get better.”

“That’s fuckin’ stupid,” Niall mutters. “I don’t deserve to be celebrated.”

“You do,” Liam corrects. He brings the blond in for another hug and presses a quick kiss to Niall’s messy hair. “You do deserve to be celebrated. And we’re going to celebrate you whether you like it or not.”

“I love you guys,” Zayn murmurs. “I love you guys so much. Being on my own was one of the worst things in the world. And it’s taken coming back, returning to the life I so desperately wanted to forget, to make me feel whole again.”

“Please don’t tell me this is going to turn into another sapfest, jesus christ.”

“It’s not. But if there’s anything I’ve learned in the past couple months, it’s that we’re stronger together, and without one of us, the entire thing falls apart. So Louis, don’t you fucking dare die on us, and Niall, you’re not going to cut yourself again for as long as you live.”

“You say that like it’s so damn easy.”

“Louis doesn’t control whether he gets better or not, but you do. And don’t you want our lives to go back to normal? Don’t you want the jokes and the antics and the liveliness of tour back?”

“I don’t even remember what that feels like,” Niall says truthfully. “I don’t remember what my life was like before I got so addicted to destroying myself.”

“Then that’s what healing will be,” Harry tells him. “Recovery is realizing that you were someone, before these destructive habits took over, and that someone is still in there. He’s not gone. It’s just gonna take some work to bring him out again.”

“Again with the sappy clichés. Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Harry continues. “Because you’re going to get better, Niall. And Louis is going to go into remission. And then we’re gonna continue the tour the way we should’ve in the first place, and hopefully, Louis and I can come out sometime during that mess. That’s the way it’s gonna go. No deviations.”

“Sure.”

“Stop being so pessimistic.” Harry glares at him, trying to look threatening, or as threatening as Harry Styles could possibly look, which really isn’t that terrifying. 

“You’re going to be okay. Louis is going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay. And I don’t wanna hear any arguments about it. That’s the way it’s going to be. Alright?”

A shadow of a smile peeks out onto Niall’s face, something so foreign in the past few weeks, but beautiful all the same. “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. It's done. I don't know about you guys, but this story is one of the only One Direction fics that I'm proud of, and I really hope you all enjoyed it. It was a journey to write, and it took a lot of twist and turns that even I wasn't expecting, but in the end, this is the best way to wrap things up. So thank you, thank you to every single one of you who read, commented, and left kudos on this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> I don't know if any of you know this, but I did have a story up a while back, one that was set in the X-Factor era, only with a few dark twists. I deleted it, because I was out of ideas and didn't like how it was turning out, but looking back on it, I'm in the process of editing it and making it the story I wanted it to be. The first chapter is almost done, so you should see it tonight or tomorrow morning, at the latest.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed the story.


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